Too Young
by reba
Summary: Lucas' past is discovered when his father tries to remove him from SeaQuest
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will. Enjoy J

Too Young

Chapter One 

No Rest for the Weary

Bridger looked down at the boy.  His head was pillowed on his left arm, right hand lying atop his keyboard. 

Kristen said softly, "he looks about six years old when he's asleep.  I hate to disturb him, but I need to check his arm.  Dr. Levin reported that he'd placed fourteen stitches yesterday with directions for Lucas to 'take it easy and report back today for a check'.  Lucas didn't show up."  She sighed.  "Nathan, he's working too hard.  He's wearing himself out by trying to do all that everyone asks him…but we're asking too much.  He's just a boy, and he's being pulled seventeen different directions each day.  I don't think he knows that it's O.K. to say 'no' to any crewmember for any request.  Consequently, he's working non-stop until he nearly collapses from exhaustion."

She had become concerned when, over lunch, Dr. Levin explained how Lucas had failed to show up for his morning appointment to change the bandage on his arm and check the stitches for infection. 

Between bites of his sandwich, Dr. Levin reported that yesterday afternoon Lucas had been helping a crewmember install a sensor panel when the heavy front cover fell.  As it slipped to the deck, the rough corner caught Lucas' arm, opening a deep cut.  Lucas stopped long enough to tie up the wound with his jersey; then he finished the installation.  When he finally arrived in Med Bay, Dr. Levin alternately stitched and lectured the pale, sweating youth about immediate care of injuries.  He sent Lucas away to rest, injured arm in a sling, and ordered him to come back at 0900.  Lucas didn't return as requested.

After lunch, when Kristen started to search for him, she first paged him.  Although his PAL showed it was activated, he did not answer.  She then questioned the scientists in the two labs Lucas frequented the most.  He had been in one lab, but that had been early this morning. 

As she pieced together the rest of his day, she moved from concern for him, to worry, to outright alarm, as she learned everything that he had done that day.  Apparently, he had worked through two Bridge shifts, helping Lt. Comm. Hitchcock upgrade the environmental control system.  He then moved to Lt. O'Neill's station to install new communications protocol software. After that, he finished writing his prospectus for installing the vocorder software on all UEO first line subs.  She had glanced through this report on his workbench when she had checked his cabin.  She hadn't known that Admiral Noyce had asked him to compile and present this information.  It must have taken Lucas days to research and prepare.  

Kristen had finally sought out Nathan's help a few minutes earlier when she couldn't locate Lucas anywhere.  Nathan suggested that they check the Ward Room, since he had scheduled a senior staff meeting there at 1900 in preparation for their new assignment.   He had mentioned to Lucas last week that he expected him to attend this particular meeting as the upcoming assignment concerned the computer analyst's department.  

They had walked into the Ward Room a little while ago and found Lucas sleeping, his head next to his computer.

Nathan sighed softly and picked up the papers lying on the table.  At Kristen's inquiring glance, he whispered, "It's the progress notes on the vocorder I _demanded_ earlier this week.  That was before I knew about all the other's demands on his time." 

His voice trailed off as Kristen began to slide Lucas' sleeve back.  The boy shifted and moaned softly, "…no, not yet."

Nathan placed a calming hand on the teen's forehead and said softly, "..It's O.K. kiddo.  It's Dr. Westphalen, she's just checking your arm."  

            He was alarmed to feel the heat under his hand.  Lucas' forehead was very warm.

            "Kristen, I think he has a fever."

            Lucas shifted again and sat up slowly, his blue eyes over bright, as he glanced, confused, from one to the other.  

            "What are you…._Ow_!" He yelped, as Kristen peeled back the tape on his arm.

            She looked sternly at him.  "You didn't show up at the appointed time this morning, young man.  And, you were told to take it easy—not to tackle five new projects."

            He looked defensive.  "I was taking it easy.  I didn't swim with Darwin or go near Ben all day.  I changed the bandage this morning, so I didn't see any reason to go to Med Bay.  Besides, I've been busy with…"

            Kristen interrupted briskly.  "Yes, you have 'been busy'.  Too busy.  How much sleep have you missed since this little accident?  How many meals have you skipped today?  No one has seen you near the galley or mess all day.  I know, I asked.  To 'take it easy' means to relax, not just to refrain from roughhousing with Darwin or Ben.  You have a fever, and you have pulled these stitches.  This may even scar. It looks as if you have been using this arm quite a bit—and where is that sling that Dr. Levin gave you?"

            Lucas' eyes looked pleadingly at his Captain to intervene and stop this lecture.  Nathan smiled slightly at the boy's discomfort, but then frowned as he felt a heavy load of guilt settle over his thoughts.  He began to speak, choosing his words carefully.

            "Lucas, I cannot condone ignoring the medical staff's recommendations, but I understand the pressure you felt to keep working. I'm sorry that I was a part of the pressure you felt.  You could have waited to give me this update if you were overloaded.  You need to promise me that you will abide by Dr. Westphalen and Dr. Levin's orders from now on.  They want you to recover quickly."

            He waited for Lucas to look up at him, and then he continued.

            "I will promise you something.  From now on, your schedule will go through Commander Ford or me.  If anyone else makes a 'request' for your assistance or expertise, he or I need to know about it, so we can factor it into your workload.  You've done way too much today…and you have an injury too…"

"…Captain, I don't mind helping out.."  Lucas stopped abruptly when Nathan held up his hand at the interruption.

"..I know you don't mind, but if today showed me anything, it showed me that you feel you cannot say no to other's requests for help, even when you're overloaded.  Lucas, it's O.K. to tell us, to tell me, when you need time to complete what's already on your plate."

Lucas looked down and spoke so softly that Kristen and Nathan had to strain to hear him.

"..captain, it's hard sometimes, to be the youngest here.  I'm an oddity, a 'freak', a fifteen year old computer nerd or sometimes for guests  the 'genius on parade'.  If I do what people ask, I'm not resented so much by the crew, and I don't feel so…lonely…if I keep busy.."

Kristen drew in a breath sharply and opened her mouth, but Nathan's hand on her shoulder silenced her.  Nathan gently lifted Lucas' face so that the boy's tear filled eyes looked directly into his own.

"Lucas, are you unhappy here? In the four months you've been on board, I thought you had found a place to further develop your research; you've found friends here, haven't you?  I don't say it aloud and I should, but you've found a place in my heart.  I care for you very much, kiddo, but if you're very unhappy, I will contact your father.."

"NO!  no..I mean..no..it's just that," Lucas swallowed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, trying to erase the evidence of his tears, "…I love being on SeaQuest, .. I guess I just want..I wish…I was wanted for me, who I am and not what I can do.  Don't call my Dad.  He doesn't want me around…that's why I'm here in the first place…"  His voice trailed off wearily, his eyes reflecting the pain in his heart.  He hissed softly as Kristen finished re-taping the freshly cleaned and bandaged wound.  "I'm probably just tired, right?  Everything will look better after I rest…"  

Lucas looked down again.  He knew that the problems with the crew accepting him…the resentment of some of the crew to his presence, wouldn't just go away.  He hoped that someday soon it wouldn't hurt so much….that the gossip would stop as to why he was even here, the covert glances certain of the scientists exchanged whenever he entered the labs, the speculation as to what he had done to be dumped here in the first place…what kind of discipline problem landed a kid on a submarine?  And why didn't his parents contact him?  He'd heard the whispers.  He was so tired of it, but thank God they didn't know the truth…in all the speculating no one had come close to the truth.

Kristen patted his bandaged arm gently.  "You need to come to Med Bay after the meeting.  You do have a slight fever and this wound is red.  That means infection, so a round of antibiotics is in store for you, young man."

She waited for Lucas' nod of agreement and then motioned Nathan to follow her out of the Ward Room.

"We'll be back in a few minutes for the meeting, Lucas.  Why don't you put your head back down and rest.  I'll wake you when it's time, before everyone arrives."

Lucas nodded again at them, his head already sinking back down to the crook of his arm.

"Nathan..," Kristen started as soon as they had left, "..he truly believes that he's only wanted for what he can do—is this what we've been showing him?  I am sick at heart…and angry!  Angry at him, angry at myself…I thought I'd given him acceptance and friendship, but I haven't shown him how valuable he is to me as a friend.  I tell him how to behave and what I expect of him as a member of my department, but I've failed to communicate how important he is to me, his energy and enthusiasm, his endless curiosity and multitude of questions.  I've acted more as a boss than a friend.  Why didn't I notice how he felt before now?  I've worked with him daily for months!  I can't believe how blind I have been…"  She shook her head, blinking back tears.  "Why didn't he tell me how he felt?"

"Kris..I wish I knew what to tell you.  I want to assure you that you're doing a great job here, you were the one who noticed how weary and overworked Lucas has become.  I'm the Captain;  I'm responsible for everyone's welfare on my ship, yet I've been oblivious to his needs, his feeling of isolation—Lord, I know that neither of his parents have called even once during his time on board—I should have seen this coming.  What other way would he feel?  When your parents don't place any value on you, can't be bothered to call you, can you develop any self-worth?  No wonder he feels as if he must earn our attention by working as hard as he can…he thinks that if he says 'no' to any request, he'll be worthless to us, too."

He ran his hands over his face.  "Kristen, I don't know how to fix this.  I can control the demands on his time, so he doesn't get this exhausted again, but what do I do about his loneliness?  He needs his family..or a family.  Can we provide that for him, and should we try?  He's neglected by his parents, but they are _his_ parents.  Sometimes, I get the feeling that what brought him here is more than neglect, more than indifference.  His eyes are so full of fear sometimes, and when anyone around him raises their voice, he freezes, then leaves as soon as possible.  I just don't know if we…if I am equipped to handle him.  What I want to do is treat him like a son; he's beginning to find that place in my heart, in my life, but  I don't know if he needs that more, or if I need him to be that for me.  I don't think that I am replacing Robert with him, but is any one of us a great judge of our own heart?  Our motivations? 

You know that Lucas is one of the main reasons why I decided to stay on seaQuest…I saw something in his eyes that first day at the moon pool.  He looked lost and so sad."

"Nathan, you need to realize that he would not have said anything just now if he did not trust and need you greatly.  He's very good about hiding his feelings behind sarcastic remarks or smiles.  In the absence of his parents, we will have to fill that role for him.  We'll just have to do our best and pray that's enough.  Perhaps he'll let us know, someday, the things he's hiding about his past…if indeed he's hiding anything.  I do believe that we need to discuss this with the senior crew.  I know that they all care about Lucas.  Tim and Miguel love him, and Ben is crazy about him.  Katie and Jonathan consider him a good friend, in fact they all seem to view him as a 'little brother' of sorts—I wonder if he knows how we all feel?  

What am I saying?  Of course he does not know how we feel.  Otherwise, he would not have said what he said just now.  We must make sure that he does know…"  Her voice trailed off as the senior staff, led by Commander Ford, approached for the scheduled meeting.

Kristen touched Nathan's hand and whispered, ".._I need to wake him.  He will be mortified if they come in and catch him sleeping."_

To be continued


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will. Enjoy

Thank you to all the kind and constructive reviewers.  I plan to write a chapter or two a week and post on weekends as my schedule allows.  It will take a while to get to the end.  Be warned:  This chapter is rated PG-13 for language and situations.

Too Young

Chapter Two 

"To Sleep, Perchance to Dream"

--William Shakespeare

As soon as the hatch closed on the Captain and Dr. Westphalen, Lucas' eyes slipped closed and his body relaxed.  His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were of the conversation, painfully honest on his part, that had just taken place.  He hoped that he wouldn't regret his words later.

He began to dream.  Lucas moved restlessly in his chair, his shoulders tensing.  He was seven again.

"_Lucas, damn you.  Where are you?"  _His father was drunk and his mother, gone to a conference, would not have helped him had she been there.  She always retired to the library at the rear of the manor when her husband had had too much to drink.

"_Lucas!  Come out NOW!  Don't you hide from me!"_  He could hear his father crashing into furniture as he stumbled around downstairs.  Lucas prayed that his dad would pass out before he found him; it had happened before.  Lucas cowered behind the bathroom door, listening, terrified.  

_"Lucas!!  It's no use for you to hide.  I know what you did, you worthless bastard!  You made another mess at school.  Your teacher called me and pulled me away from an important meeting to tell me about your hydrogen experiment.."_  His father's voice got louder as he approached the staircase.

Lucas began to shake as he heard his father's heavy tread on the stairs.  When his daddy was sober, he usually ignored Lucas, always busy with his latest project, concerned about deadlines and endless grant proposals.  But when he drank, his focus seemed to shift solely to his frustrations about his son.  Lucas wiped his hands on his pants.  He didn't mean to displease his father; he craved his father's acceptance, but seemed almost always to disappoint him.

Lucas knew hiding would do no good.  It just delayed the inevitable and further enraged his father, but he couldn't bring himself to move.  He thought about what had set his father off this time.  Earlier today, his teacher told him that he would be contacting his father.  Lucas tried to discourage the call, but Mr. Ross was so proud of the boy's experiment, even though the results were more explosive than expected.  The damage to the science lab was minor, and covered by the high school's insurance policy, and, fortunately, no one had been hurt.  But Lucas knew how his father would receive the call.  His father would only focus on the damage report, and not the commendation of Lucas' creativity and ingenuity.  Mr. Ross was also calling to get Lawrence's permission to enter Lucas' hydrogen experiment in the New York Science Fair competition next month.  If his father agreed, Lucas' experiment would be the sole entry, representing the entire district.  Lucas didn't care.  He wished Mr. Ross had picked someone else; then this call would never have taken place.

_"There you are!"_  Lucas snapped back to the present in time to keep the bathroom door from bouncing off his nose. 

_"Come're.."_  His father's hand closed about is right wrist and dragged him out from behind the door.  _"You made another mess, didn't you?" _  He slurred the words somewhat.  His brown eyes narrowed as he glared into Lucas' blue ones.  He shook him slightly.  His face was flushed; his clothes mussed.  His breath reeked of whiskey, and Lucas turned his head aside as his eyes began to water from the fumes and the pain in his wrist.  He squirmed as his father squeezed tighter…and pulled him out into the upstairs hall and down the stairs.

_"…dad..I'm sorry..I didn't mean for the reaction to be that powerful…"_

_"Shut. Up."  _His father turned and slapped him, and Lucas felt the blood gush from his nose.  He moaned as his father's grip tightened further.  He could feel the bones in his wrist shift under his father's iron grip.

"You're so interested in experiments—I have set one up for you.  It even involves hydrogen…"  His father laughed drunkenly.  "Come on, Lucas, you need to learn your lesson." 

            Lucas was crying openly now.  He knew 'learning a lesson' would involve pain… probably a lot of pain.  He wished, prayed, every day that his father would not touch the bottle that day.  His cruelty and foul language seemed to come straight from the alcohol.  When he was sober, he never hurt Lucas or swore.  Most days, Lucas' prayers were answered.  And some rare and beautiful days, his father even discussed his latest theories with him, asked him about his school day, and even seemed proud of his son.  Lucas tried to put his mind on such a day, to remember a gentle hug from his daddy, to see kindness and maybe love in the brown eyes, to catch hold of such a memory and fly away and escape this monster that took over when his father lost control and drank.

            He looked up to find that they were standing in front of the old carriage shed behind the garage.

            _"Stand still, you little shit.."_ His father mumbled, and then swung open the wooden door.  It was a dark and dirty building, abandoned and unused for anything save gardening supplies.  Lucas had never been in here, never been allowed in here.  His mom said it was too dangerous, and he hadn't wanted to explore the unlit depths of the old rooms anyway.  He wasn't that curious.  As he was dragged inside, cobwebs caught in his hair, and he heard scurrying in front of them, as if they had disturbed a nest of mice or rats.

            _"Back here, son."_  His father said mockingly, "_Here is my experiment, a little surprise for you."_

            Lucas' father released his wrist and shoved him forward.

            _"Dad..what are you.."_  Lucas' voice rose to a scream as his right foot slipped down into nothingness.  His arms pin wheeled, and he fought for balance.

            _"Surprise!" _ His father's gloating voice sounded behind Lucas as he was shoved forward.  He lost his battle with gravity then and plunged downward, his scream cut off abruptly as his body slammed down on the bottom of the old rain cistern.  His breath left him in a rush, and, for a little while, the world inside his head turned as black as the well around him.

            _"Lucas…wake up…Lucas.  Lucas!!  I know the fall didn't kill you.  I can hear you breathing.  WAKE UP!!  You'll miss the start of my experiment"_

Lucas groaned as he opened his eyes.  Ten feet or so above him, he could see the dim outline of his father's body on the edge of the well   _"..d..dad, help me out, please!  I'll do whatever you want to make up for the damage to the lab.."_

_            "SHUT UP!!"_

Lucas cringed at his father's roar.  He could no longer see his dad, but he could hear him shifting something around up there.  He gasped as he was suddenly drenched with very cold water.

            _"You like my surprise?  It's not pure hydrogen, I put some oxygen in there, too…to help you breathe."_  He laughed a short while.  _"I know that you can swim, Lucas, but can you float?  Can you float as long as it will take to fill this well?  LUCAS!!  How do you like my experiment so far?  I guess, if you can't float, we'll see how long it takes you to sink.  Or, maybe, you'll learn to breathe water…that stupid teacher thinks you can do anything…"_  His laughter trailed off as he moved away.

            Lucas' teeth chattered as he tried to speak.  _"..d..d..dad, d..d..don't l..leave me here!  Please!  Help me out!  It's f..f..freezing"_  The water from the hose continued to pour down from above.  Lucas moved away from the stream splashing down, but could not escape the rising water around his sneakers.  How long would it take before the water was over his head?

            _"DAD!!"_  He screamed, panicked now.  He heard the carriage door thud closed.  His father had left him here—how could he just leave him here?  Lucas' arms wrapped around himself as he shivered.  The water was over his sneakers now, soaking his socks as well.  In the near darkness, he turned to the wall at his back and felt the surface.  Maybe he could climb out; maybe, since he was the only variable in his father's experiment, perhaps he could change the expected results.  He dug his fingers into the cracks of the rocky surface and let his weight hang, briefly, by his tenuous grip.  It might work.  It was a chance, anyway.  He swiped at the blood still dripping from his nose and turned back to slip off his shoes and socks.  He would need his toes, as well, to make a successful climb.

            Shivering more violently now, he briskly rubbed his hands together for warmth and looked up, gauging how far he needed to climb.  The rim of the well was about six feet above his outstretched fingertips, and if he judged the climb correctly, he could reach over the edge while still a foot or two below the top and pull himself out.

            The water had risen to his knees. 'No time like the present,' he thought, and approached the wall again.

*****************************

            The third time he fell, the water was so deep it broke his fall.  Small comfort, since the first fall had smashed his aching wrist against the wall; the second fall had wrenched his right knee.  Now he could hardly stand.  He had stopped shivering a while ago.  He realized, dimly, that he was probably hypothermic, maybe freezing.  His thoughts slowed down.  It was hard now to care about making yet another attempt to climb out.  He wanted to sit down, to sink under the water and rest, just rest.  He realized that to do so meant he'd die, but that fact seemed unimportant now.  He was so cold.  He couldn't see his fingers or toes anymore, so he knew that night had fallen, but he didn't need to see his hands and feet to know that they were scraped and cut, some nails now torn to the quick or ripped completely off.  The cold water was a blessing, he guessed, because he couldn't feel the pain in his hands and feet, but the oozing blood from them loosened his grip as he tried to climb.

            The water had reached his chin now.  He was so tired.  Would anyone care when he died?  Would his mother care?  He doubted it since she didn't seem to care now unless he did something to inconvenience her.  Lucas knew his father would feel remorse, even carry guilt, if he remembered what he had done to hasten his son's death.  But, many times, his father seemingly had no memory of his actions while on a drinking binge.  When he did remember, he apologized, sometimes cried, about the horrible things he had said or done while drunk.  Always, he promised it would never happen again.  Lucas felt helpless when he saw his father's tears.  He always cried too, and readily forgave the broken bones, bruises, and ugly words.  He always hoped, each time, that his father was sincere, and he would never drink again.  He believed his daddy, every time…until the next time.

            Lucas' tears slid, unnoticed, down his cheeks.  He decided he wanted to live; he accepted that this was his last attempt.  He didn't even know if he had the strength left, but he had to try.  He wouldn't give up.  He wanted to see the stars, see the ocean again.  He was floating now.  He reached as high as he could and fingered each crack.  If he pushed as hard as he could, he could barely feel the pressure against his fingertips.  He shoved his hands into two likely spots and took a deep breath. 

            He pulled up, feet scrabbling for a grip.  At his knees, a rock came loose and provided a secure foothold in the hole it left as it sank under water.  Lucas pressed his forehead against the wall and rested.  He had never been this exhausted.  He shoved his fingers into a higher crevice and pushed up, stretching his left foot across to a protruding rock a foot above his current perch.  The rock held.  Thank God.

            His fingers walked the wall above him again.  They were useless now to help him feel his way, but he still had some sensation in his palms.  His fingers were only good to measure how deep the grooves were.   His palms could still give him an indication of the height and width of each crack.  After what seemed like an endless, fruitless search, he found not one, but two likely feeling cracks, deep and wide enough for all his fingers.  He recklessly shoved as many fingers as would fit in each one, and, whimpering now, pulled himself upward with agonizing slowness.  His feet miraculously found a former handhold just as his trembling arms were about to give out.  Groaning, he balanced there, panting rapidly.

            He knew that he was on the verge of passing out.  Red and Black spots bloomed like obscene roses, appearing and disappearing before his eyes.  He leaned his body into the wall and bit his lip, hard, drawing blood.  The copper taste filled his mouth, sickening him, but waking him somewhat.  He gasped, shuddering helplessly, as his body, not submerged anymore, warmed slightly in the night air.

            After a few minutes, he felt strong enough to continue.  Glancing up, he was shocked to see that he'd made it further on this attempt than any of the last three.  He reached upward with his good hand and wrapped his fingers around the well's rock rim.  He kept the fingers of his right hand jammed where they were.  If the rock rim gave way, perhaps this hand would hold him while he grabbed for a new hold above.  He gritted his teeth, tears again streaming from his eyes, as he pulled himself up for what he hoped was the last time.  He hurt everywhere now.  His chest scraped painfully against the rock as he inched upward.  At last, he hooked his left elbow over the edge.  His breath hitched as he brought his injured arm up and rested that elbow on the well's edge also.  His weight now settled on his crooked arms and his chin.  He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision.  The water below him had covered his legs to his thighs.  He hung there, breathing deeply.  His chest hurt on the inside too, and he coughed, choking a bit.  His toes now found the deep finger holds, and he rolled out, looking up at the stars shining through the gaps in the roof above him.

            He had made it.

            Everything, everywhere hurt, and he was beginning to shiver uncontrollably, muscles twitching painfully.  Mercifully, he passed out before full feeling returned to his mangled fingers and toes.

            When he awakened, his father was carrying him up the driveway.  Faintly, he could hear him muttering to himself, _"fool boy, what was he doing in there?  If I hadn't heard the water running…he could have died."  _His father looked down at him, and seeing he was awake, drew Lucas closer still.  _"Lucas, what were you doing playing down there?  What on earth did you do to your hands and feet?  I couldn't find your shoes anywhere…"_  Lucas, his thoughts still unfocused, judged the time to be somewhere after midnight, possibly early morning.  He'd been trapped in the carriage house for over ten hours, and his father had no memory of how he ended up there.

            Upstairs, in the same bathroom where it all started, his father undressed him, examining his wrist, knee, hands and feet gently after he wrapped him in blankets. _"I'll need to call the doctor to look at these.  I think your wrist might be broken."_  Lucas couldn't speak, he was shivering so badly.  As the bath filled, his father held him gingerly, softly drying his hair with a towel.  Lucas leaned against his father's chest and cried.  He needed his father's love, but it seemed he only showed it when Lucas was hurt.

            _"It's OK now, son.  We'll talk about not wandering off later.  You need to get in the bath and let it warm you up.  The water may sting a little on all these cuts. As soon as you get in, I'll call Dr. Harris.  He'll come to the house for the right price."_  His father picked him up and set him in the half filled tub.  Lucas gasped, arching away from the water, as his cold, cold skin was covered with the warm bathwater.  It felt like knives stabbing him everywhere…like his whole body had gone to sleep and was now waking, viciously screaming in protest as it did.  He felt like he was on fire…and then, after one long minute, the feeling faded and he began to warm up.  His father held his hand as he relaxed into the water, then left to call the doctor.

******************

            He was warm now, warmer than he wanted to be.  He was stuck, caught in the bathtub, unable to get out, and now he felt like he was burning; his skin was baking.  Someone was shaking him.  He heard a voice, but needed to escape the heat more than he wanted to understand what was being said.  He pulled away from the insistent shaking, crying now.  "No!  No.. it's hot…burning me.. let me out, let me go!"

            The shaking continued though; it even increased as more voices were raised in alarm.  He twisted away and shuddered as a hand closed over his stitched arm.  His eyes flew open wide at the pain.

            "No!  No, let go!"  He winced as he looked around at the alarmed and worried faces of the senior staff.

            "Jonathan! That arm is injured."  Kristen said urgently.

            He felt the hand release his arm instantly.  He looked up to see Commander Ford grimace and mutter, "Sorry, Lucas, I didn't know.   I thought you were going to hurt yourself flailing around."  Lucas smiled weakly at him, nodding his acceptance of the apology.

            Dr. Westphalen placed her hand on his forehead.  "Your fever has risen considerably since I checked you last."  She paused, then said, "I take it that was not a good dream?"  Her voice rose in inquiry, and he knew that she was fishing for an explanation.

            He started to stand, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder before he had risen halfway from his seat.  He had been trying to back away from all of them; he felt utterly lost after this particular nightmare and did not want to share its details with anyone.  He needed to be alone for a while and make his way back from the past to the present.

            "Nathan, I know it is important that we are all present at this meeting, but you have Lucas' written update, and I do not believe I can wait any longer to start his antibiotics.  I would like to take him to Med Bay now, with your permission."

            Lucas looked over his shoulder at the Captain and watched him nod slowly, but his worried eyes never left Lucas' face.  "I will relay the pertinent information to both of you later, Kristen."  Nathan looked at her briefly, his eyes communicating his concern and picking up on her own.  Then he looked down at Lucas.

            "I'll talk to you later."

To be continued…

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will. Enjoy

Thank you to all the kind and constructive reviewers.  You are an encouragement, and I keep trying to improve the writing.  I still plan to write a chapter or two a week and post on weekends as my schedule allows.  It will take a while to get to the end, but I will be faithful to post often.

Too Young

Chapter 3

Serious Discussions

Captain Bridger's hand squeezed his shoulder, but then slipped off, so Lucas stood to follow Dr. Westphalen to Med Bay.  He realized that his hands still shook slightly and tried to slip them surreptitiously into his pockets.  He hated that dream.  That particular time in the well was not the worst trip behind the garage, but it was the _first_ and so it seemed to hold special sway over his dreams.  He hardly ever dreamed about the other times his father used that special punishment.  He had fought in panic on the second trip to the carriage house.  That earned him a broken arm and cracked ribs.  In spite of his resistance, he still ended up at the bottom of the well.  He had nearly drowned that night.  He had to float and claw his way upward using only his good arm and his legs.  He barely made it out.  He woke up three days later in the hospital.  He had pneumonia and a killer sinus infection.  After that, he always went quietly with his father.  He learned, over the years, the quickest climb out, and he escaped the well once his father left the old building.  His father never caught on.  He even achieved a victory, of sorts, by hiding changes of clothes and blankets in the dark corners of the old carriage house.  He would sit inside one of the horse stalls, warm and dry, and wait a few hours for his father to sober up.  Then, he'd sneak quietly back in and up the stairs to his bedroom.  There, he'd lie on his bed and wonder what he'd done wrong, and what he could do to avoid his father's wrath in the future.

Lucas mentally shook himself and focused on the present.  Here, on seaQuest, he had escaped his father, the uncertainty of his moods, and his drunken rages.  Here, he felt safe.  He lagged behind the doctor, and he shivered in reaction to the cooler air circulating between decks.  As they entered the Maglev, Lucas glanced back toward the wardroom.  He wasn't sorry to miss this meeting; generally, he found them boring, but he did wonder about the crew's reactions to his nightmare.  He knew he'd have to face their questions later, and resolved, again, that they could never know the content of this dream, the fabric of lies his father had woven together about the past.  Those lies landed him on seaQuest in the first place.  If they found out about his life before seaQuest, he'd have to leave.  And he needed, _wanted_ to stay—at least for a while longer.

Ahead, Kristen motioned Lucas to follow her into Med Bay.  

"On the table" Kristen's no nonsense voice broke into his thoughts.  He shrugged and sat down.

"Is this necessary?"  

She glared at him.  He tried not to wilt visibly, but inside he was quaking.  Sometimes, he felt as if she could read his thoughts.  Right this minute, that would be disastrous.  She busied herself laying out bandages.  "Roll up your sleeve, young man."  She sounded more exasperated than mad.  "Honestly, you _must learn_ to take better care of yourself!"

Lucas sighed.  She rechecked and wrapped his stitched arm, then adjusted a sling for him to use.  "Open up." She placed a thermometer in his mouth and, while she was waiting, took his pulse.  After jotting down the results on a chart nearby, she turned to prepare an injection.  She gave Lucas a small smile now and said, "Lie down and roll over.  This shot cannot go in your arm."

Lucas complied, grimacing as she inserted the needle below his left hip.  He refastened his pants.

"Just an antibiotic to take care of the infection.  You need sleep now, if you can.  Your temperature is 103; I'm not surprised that you are seeing disturbing images in your dreams.  With this high a temperature, I wouldn't be surprised if you were seeing things while awake. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."  Lucas answered shortly.  He just wanted to be alone now.  He did not mean to be rude, but he just couldn't face her questions, and he had no confidence in his ability to answer to her satisfaction anyway.  He didn't think her questions would stop.  Once he let her in, she'd keep pressing until she had the entire story.  That was unacceptable.  So he rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and waited, hoping she'd give up, go away, and leave him in peace.

Kristen started to say something, then stopped.  Instead, she took a small towel, wet it with cool water, and gently placed it on his forehead.  He flinched, but did not open his eyes.  She sat next to him until he relaxed into sleep, and turned onto his side.  She lowered the lights and gave direction to the nurse to call her when he awakened.  She could make the end of the briefing if she hurried.

"..And you all have your assignments."  Captain Bridger was closing the mission briefing when Kristen walked into the wardroom. 

Immediately, all eyes turned her way.  She answered their unspoken question.

"Lucas will be fine.  He is asleep now.  His fever was quite high, but once the antibiotics have had a chance to work, that will go down.  Physically, he should be fully recovered in a few days."  She met Nathan's gaze as she uttered the last sentence, and could see her worry mirrored in his eyes.  She could almost read his thoughts. 'Physically fine.' But what about his emotional health?  That seemed to be far from fine.

Surprisingly, Tim spoke up first.  His voice was hesitant and soft.  "Captain, Doctor…I don't mean to pry or speak out of turn, but I've never seen Lucas that upset.  He was trying to hide it, but he was shaking when he left.  If I can ask, did he tell you what frightened him, what upset him?  Was it the dream—or is it just that he's ill?  Or is it something else?"

"These are excellent questions, Lieutenant.  I don't have the answers for you, but Kristen and I wanted to talk with you all about something Lucas said just before the meeting, and, perhaps Lucas _did_ give Kristen some sort of explanation while in Med bay."  Nathan looked inquiringly at her.

As Kristen shook her head to the negative, Ben cut in.  "…Sir, we all are concerned about the kid.  He hasn't been himself for a couple of weeks now, and he won't tell me about whatever is bothering him.  As far as I know, he's even stopped talking with Darwin.  Fish-face was complaining the other day that Lucas hadn't come to play with him in a while."

Kristen's look silenced him and she explained further, "I tried to talk with Lucas when I treated him.  He shut me out.  I know that he's hurting—something is bothering him.  Somehow we need to get through to him that it's safe to talk with us about whatever it is."

"Kristen and I didn't know how isolated Lucas was feeling until a few hours ago.  I may be violating his confidence a little, but I believe it is necessary for us to talk about this.  Maybe we can help him, and you all need to know how he feels.  He believes that he is only wanted here for what he can do with the computers…that he is a 'freak' and resented by some of the crew."

"Is this serious?  Should we contact his parents?"  Katie looked around at everyone as she spoke.  

Tim was shaking his head.  "I'm not sure his parents even care…I mean, there are _no_ calls from either one of them on the ship's communication logs, and I've never heard him talk about either one of them…"

Nathan's eyebrows rose.  "We really don't know what brought Lucas to the seaQuest.  Admiral Noyce mentioned that there were 'discipline problems at home', but in the few months I've known him, that explanation does not fit.  I don't see Lucas as a problem child or a troublemaker."

Kristen interjected, "Has anyone heard Lucas' explanation as to how he ended up here?  It may be important"  Her gaze met blank looks and negative head shakes.

"Well.."  Chief Crocker began, "I brought Lucas over to the seaQuest that first day.  I was piloting the MR-7 that morning.  His father dropped him off at the New Cape Quest pier.  I just had a list of names, seamen, scientists and 'academy pups'.."

"Hey!" Miguel interrupted, "..I was on that launch."

Crocker rolled his eyes.  "As I was saying, I just had this list, and he sure didn't fit what I was expecting to see as a 'chief computer analyst'.  I almost didn't let him on, but his paperwork was in order, so…"

"Your point, Chief." Commander Ford said impatiently.

"Yes, sorry, Sir. It wasn't so much what Lucas said, it was how his father behaved.  He couldn't hand the boy over to me fast enough..and he didn't even say good-bye—didn't even look at him.  He just threw the kid's duffel bag at his feet and left."

"I remember that…" Miguel said slowly, "..I helped him stow his gear.  He acted like he'd never been in a shuttle before.  I didn't know that was his father though.  I just thought that the guy was a cabdriver with an attitude, or that Lucas stiffed him on the tip.  Anyway, Lucas sat next to me on the ride over to seaQuest.  He didn't say a word the whole way—well, he did introduce himself."

Jonathan shot Miguel a warning look, and sounding slightly exasperated, said, "Chief, did something happen that you feel we need to know?"

"As I say, it may be unimportant, but when I offloaded the launch, he stayed aboard.  When I noticed him back there, I went to see if something was wrong.  He was struggling to lift his duffel.  He'd had it over his shoulder, but he'd dropped it.  When I got closer, I noticed that he had blood spotting through his shirt where the strap had been."

"WHAT!!" Kristen practically screamed and, next to her, Tim jumped. "What did you do?  Why didn't you bring him to Med Bay?"

Crocker raised both hands as if to hold back her questions.  "I tried.  I got his bag for him and took him to his quarters.  I asked him along the way what happened and told him that he needed to get his shoulder checked out.  I even offered to walk with him to Med Bay.  He said he'd take care of it; not to worry, that he knew I was busy and he could find his own way.  It was a horrendous day, and, frankly, I had forgotten all about him in an hour's time.  He also had a plausible explanation for the blood, so I let it go."

"What did he say?"  Ben jumped in with his question.  At least three others around the table had their mouths open to ask precisely that.  In other circumstances, Nathan would have found it amusing.  He just nodded at the Chief to continue.

"Well, he said he had a cyst on that shoulder that had just been removed.  He said he'd forgotten all about it until he tried to lift the bag."

"…So, what does that tell us?"  Miguel asked.

"It's all conjecture without Lucas to confirm it, but I…I..think his dad hurt him.  I have never seen a man as angry as his father was when he left him.  I don't think Lucas had a cyst, and I don't think he came to seaQuest willingly."

Katie looked aghast.  "You believe that his father abused him?  Hurt him to force him to come on board?  That's quite a jump, isn't it?"

The Chief looked at her.  She could see the conviction of his belief in his eyes.  "I said I don't know for sure—All I know is I get this feeling, four months after that day, that I missed something important.  It's hindsight, but knowing what I know now, knowing Lucas a little better…when we all walked in here…walked in on that nightmare, the first thing that came to mind was his bloody shirt on the launch that day.  I can't say why that popped into my mind.  I don't think I've thought about it once between then and now.  I sure would like to know what he was dreaming is all."

Nathan sat back and nodded thoughtfully.  "Kristen, does Lucas' medical file give any indication that the Chief's suspicions could be true?  I have wondered about this very thing myself, but hearing it aloud…" His voice trailed off.

"I don't have much, as far as medical records go.  He came with an incomplete file, but he was, is so young that I didn't worry about it overmuch.  He's obviously a healthy young man.  I've had no luck contacting either parent to sign a release to request his complete file from his primary physician in Buffalo."

She looked slightly shaken.  "Nathan, it just occurred to me that I've never done a complete physical on him.  He came on board at the tail end of all the science personnel.  Some of them still have not had their first physicals.  Lucas is in that group.  If he has been abused in the past, I've let it slip by unnoticed."

Nathan looked around, disturbed by Kristen's comments.  Everyone seemed upset by what they'd just heard.  He noted, however, that Katie and Jonathan looked slightly green.  Quite a feat for his second, especially.  He met their eyes.  "What is it?"

Katie motioned for Jonathan to begin.  "I..I don't…I didn't…God, I don't think either one of us considered that the scars could be abuse.  He seemed so matter of fact about them."

"What are you talking about?  What scars?"  Nathan sat forward, staring intently at Jonathan.

"We walked in the gym about a month ago, and Lucas was finishing up his required exercise time on the treadmill.  He had just pulled off his shirt to change into a dry one right before we came in.  His was turned away from us, and he had—has scars all over his back.  When he heard us, he turned around quickly.  We asked him about his back.  He gave us a crooked grin and he said he'd gotten tangled in a shark net once several years ago while helping his dad do research at an aquarium.  I think we said something like 'that must have hurt'.  He gathered up his stuff and left pretty quickly."

Ben looked shell shocked.  "If that SOB hurt him like that… I'll kill him.  Who could do anything to deliberately hurt him?  They'd have to be a monster."

Nathan nodded in agreement, but cautioned, "We still don't know anything with any certainty.  In the absence of proof, we would need Lucas to admit this abuse happened.  I don't see him doing that willingly, so perhaps the best option is for you, Kristen, to rotate him up to the head of the list for physicals and see what you can find out."

"But what can we do in the meantime, Captain?"  It was Tim who spoke, but they all looked at him expectantly.

"Originally, this discussion began because Lucas does not recognize how much we value him for who he is as our friend.  When he lets you, just be there for him.  Some of you," He looked at Tim, Miguel, and Ben, "already include him in off-duty activities.  Just let him know that you care about him, beyond his skills as a programmer or hacker.  Let him know that he's worth something to you in addition to what he can do on with the computers."

"How can he think so little of himself?  I mean, he's brilliant and funny and incredibly inventive…"  Katie impatiently asked.

"Have you ever told him that?"

"…No….he really doesn't realize these things about himself?  How could he not?"

Kristen answered, "I believe we all begin to understand what our gifts and abilities are by what our parents praise and encourage.  If, and God I hope we are all wrong, if he has been abused, then he has probably missed this sort of vital parental interaction.  For my part, I will try to speak what I've always thought and just assumed that he knew.  Really, do any of us get enough positive affirmation that we are important to each other?  Perhaps he just needs it more than most.  I am also going to keep a closer eye on the rest of the scientists in the labs Lucas uses.  He mentioned to us that he'd been the topic of less than friendly gossip…and I am not surprised.  After all, we are here speculating about the circumstances that brought him to seaQuest—others will also, and perhaps, with a destructive intent.

Nathan placed his hands on top of the table and stood.  "You are dismissed.  Please keep this conversation confidential.  I have a promise to keep to a certain young man in Med Bay.  I told him that 'I'd talk to him later'; I think 'later' has arrived."

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Faithful reader, I hope that you enjoy it also.

Too Young

Chapter 4

In Med Bay

"Stay for a minute, Commander.  You too, doctor."

Everyone else filed out of the wardroom, but Miguel stopped in the doorway, and Tim and Ben peered over his shoulder. "Can we visit Lucas?  I mean, will he be in Med Bay overnight?"

"Yes, I'd like to keep a close eye on him for 24 hours, and make sure his fever has come down a bit.  He will be on medical leave with a limited duty schedule for a few more days after that.  I want to give his arm a chance to heal undisturbed.  Let's wait until tomorrow for you to visit.  I'm hoping that he will sleep for the rest of the night.  And, from what Nathan has said, I expect that he will be with Lucas for part of this evening.  One visitor is enough for now."

Nathan nodded in agreement.  "When we finish up here, Kristen and I will check on him.  If he wakes up this evening, I have some things I'd like to discuss with him about our mission…and other issues.  Maybe we can get some answers from him as to what is really bothering him."

The three nodded, and soon the wardroom was empty, except for Nathan, Jonathan and Kristen.  Nathan sat back down and motioned for them to join him.  "Thank you both for staying.  I wanted to speak to you about coordinating Lucas' bridge and lab schedules.  From now on, Lucas will only work on projects assigned by you, me, or Kristen.  Apparently, he does not feel like he can refuse any request for his help, and, in the last 24 hours…"

Kristen interrupted. "..In the last 24 hours he hasn't slept!  Except for the brief nap he took in here, and we all witnessed how restful that was.  Too many crewmembers are expecting him to drop everything and assist them.  They don't realize how busy he is.  He's just adding their assignments on to an ever-growing list of what he sees now as his 'responsibilities'. He's worn out."

Nathan continued.  "Jonathan, I want you inform the three bridge shifts that all Lucas' bridge time will now have to be scheduled by you or me.  He is not to be on the bridge unless you or I have requested it.  We are in close daily contact and can keep track of how much he's working.  Kristen will be in charge of his lab time.  It would benefit us to iron out the hours we each would need him and take care of any conflicts now."

He glanced at Kristen, and she began, "Well, he has the vocorder, of course, and he should spend an hour or two most days working with Darwin to improve the vocabulary database.  I think that this is an excellent opportunity for him to relax as well.  Darwin seems to calm him, and that's where he laughs the most, playing games with the dolphin.  I know that he also confides in Darwin.  I've inadvertently overheard them at this; Lucas seems to treat Darwin as a contemporary.  Actually, Darwin _is_ about the same age as Lucas, isn't he?"

Bridger nodded and said, "So, we can count on two hours a day at the moon pool or in a lab?"

"Yes, he does have other interests in the lab.  Dr. Robinson depends on his input to compile the computer data for the study of the effectiveness of hydroponics and undersea farming.  That is a long-term study and will not be complete for quite some time."

"Thank you, doctor."  He turned to Jonathan. "So, unless it is an emergency, and we cannot function without our 'chief computer analyst's' skills, no more bridge shifts of more than six hours."

Commander Ford agreed.  "I will let all three bridge shifts know."

As they stood to go, Nathan added, "The hard part of this will be to convince Lucas that it's OK to leave whatever project he's working on for another time.  He's incredibly focused."

Kristen smiled.  "Yes, but we will have to be firm.  It is hard to remember that he is only fifteen, yet we must carefully consider his age.  Even with these hours, he is exceeding the maximum working time for someone his age—employment law is very strict about overworking young people."

Commander Ford chuckled.  "Somehow, I can't picture Lucas suing us for making him work over six hours.  He'd be more likely to sue us for making him stop…and eat…stop…and sleep."  Nathan and Kristen laughed in agreement.  They all had become familiar with the young teen's determination to see whatever he was working on to completion, no matter how many hours that took.

As they walked out of the wardroom, Nathan turned to his second, "Thank you for your help, Jonathan.  If you need me, I will be in Med Bay."

When they arrived in Med Bay, Kristen picked up Lucas' chart and glanced down the page to the most recent entry.  "It looks like Mary took his temperature a few minutes ago.  It seems to have dropped somewhat."

Together, they walked over to his bed and stood looking down at the sleeping teen. Lucas was on his side, body curled, with his knees drawn up slightly.   His sling cradled his injured arm to his chest.  Kristen whispered. "He doesn't look like he's moved since I left."  

"Do you expect him to sleep all night?"

"I hope so.  He certainly could use it."

They both noticed the dark circles under his eyes.  Kristen gently placed her wrist to Lucas' forehead.  He was still warm, but his fever had definitely dropped in the last hour.  She pulled a light blanket from the foot of the bed up over him, and he rolled over, onto his back, mumbling something unintelligible, then relaxed into a deep sleep.

Nathan looked to her for permission, his voice soft.  "I'd like to sit here for awhile, in case he does wake up.  I think we need some answers from him—I don't want to disturb him, but I'd like you to examine his back…those scars that Katie and Jonathan noticed.  I am putting their observation together with Gator's account of Lucas' arrival on seaQuest…well, it looks very bad."  His volume began rising as he considered what they knew.  "If his _father_ has been hurting him.."  His anger deepened and strengthened his voice and Kristen quickly shushed him.

"Nathan!" She hissed.  Then she continued so quietly that he had to lean close to her to catch her words.  "I am as…horrified as you are at this possibility, but I _will not allow you to upset him._  He needs sleep badly.  All this can wait.  It has already waited four months, it can wait a few hours longer.  _If_ you promise to behave, you can sit with him for a short while, but even if he wakes—no confrontations tonight."

He looked chastened.  "You are right as always, doctor.  I need to take my own advice and let you examine him discreetly.  If explanations are in order, he will provide them then.  I just want to help him—and if he was placed on seaQuest unwillingly, I want to make sure he knows that we will help him.  Although, I _do not _want him to leave."

"Nor do I.  But, Nathan, I don't believe that _he _wants to go."

"Even if it may be the best thing for him?"

"What are you saying?"

"We cannot totally protect him from the resentment and petty jealousy of some of the crew.  And here, he has nowhere to escape it—and no family to help him deal with it.  We need to be able to let him go if this isn't the best place for him."

"Yes, but it is **_not_** our decision to make.  His father—"

"**_His father_** cares so much about Lucas that he hasn't bothered to reply to any of my messages—" As his voice rose in anger, Lucas frowned.  He began to mumble again.  His hands clutched the blanket, and he twisted his body away from the Captain.

"Nathan.  That's enough.  We need to take this discussion elsewhere now."  Kristen leaned over Lucas and patted his arm comfortingly.  But Lucas pulled away from her and moaned. His mumbling increased in volume.  "—no, no….NO!  Daddy, daddy, no, not the well.  I'll be good, please…please….s..s..so c..c..cold, no, hurts…no it HURTS!!  Oh God, my arm…the rats… get them off, daddy…. please, HELP ME!!"  His voice rose to a shout and he began tearing at the sling and the bandage underneath, his fingernails digging at the tape.  

He sat up abruptly, nearly knocking heads with Kristen, who was bent over him trying to keep him from injuring his arm further.  He scooted backward, away from them, eyes unfocused and not yet totally awake.  He blinked blearily at them, but turned his head quickly from side to side as if looking for something, or someone.

"Lucas—" Nathan reached toward the boy and grasped his shoulders to steady him.  "It's all right…you're safe.  It's O.K.  You're in Med Bay."

Lucas slapped at his hands.  "NO!! Don't touch me!  Get off me!"

Nathan stepped back quickly, shocked.

Lucas stared at them, finally focusing on the two in front of him.  His eyes were huge, terrorized, and his face bone white, except for the dark circles of sleeplessness under them.  His face crumpled, and he pulled his legs toward himself, rocking.  "I..I'm  sorry….s..s..sorry, Captain, I..I didn't mean it."  His voice was wavering. He looked between them, eyes full of fear.  "..am..am I in trouble?…I..I didn't mean it…"

"Why,…why would you be in trouble?"  Nathan noted the boy's trembling, his extreme fear.  "Why…are you so afraid?  We would never hurt you."

"I..I know.  I'm sorry…oh Captain, I h..h..hit you!  I d..d..didn't mean it…"  Lucas was weeping now, forehead resting on his knees.  He shook so that Kristen was afraid that he would fall out of the bed.

"Lucas.  Lucas."  She waited until he met her eyes.  "I want to sedate you so you can rest undisturbed.  You shouldn't dream while sedated, but Nathan or I will sit with you anyway."

Lucas didn't trust his voice, so he nodded his agreement.  He was _so tired._  He wanted to sleep forever and escape these dreams that had plagued his sleep for the past two weeks.  **_The well.._**somehow his sleeping mind was stuck there.  Every time he closed his eyes in the last fourteen days, he had dreamed of **the well.**  He just wanted it all to go away.  And now, because of his weakness, they knew…something.  Had he said something?  Yelled something?  He had.  He could see it in their eyes.

He turned a shaky smile toward the Captain, trying to ask for his forgiveness without words.  Nathan picked up on his unspoken apology.

"It's really O.K., kiddo.  I feel like this is my fault anyway.  If I hadn't been yelling…"  Nathan took his hand and gently squeezed it.  "Listen, don't worry about anything except getting some rest.  We _will_ need to talk, but it can wait until the morning.  Get some sleep."  

Kristen came back with the hypo spray, and Lucas barely felt the injection in his wrist.  After a few seconds, he began to relax.

Nathan helped him get comfortable, adjusting the blanket.  He noticed Lucas' eyes were sliding closed almost as soon as his head was on the pillow.

Kristen gestured for him to follow her to her office.

On the way, she said softly, "Now he will **sleep** until morning."

When her office door closed behind them, Nathan turned to her, nearly speechless.  "..Kristen…did you hear him?  The pain and terror in his voice?  Calling, 'daddy, no, stop?'  And what was that about rats?"

Kristen hugged herself.  Nathan saw the tears in her eyes.  "I..I..don't…didn't want to believe that his father could be, how did Ben put it?  'Such a Monster'  Oh, Nathan, I don't want this to be true.  That dear, dear boy."

He stepped forward and hugged her.  She lost control of her emotions then, clutching him tightly and sobbing.  He wondered when it was that Lucas had come to mean so much to them.  They both loved him like he was their own son.  When, precisely, had that happened?

"It will be all right.  If this is true, we will help him do…whatever he needs, wants…to get away from his father's control, to be safe."

As Nathan spoke, Kristen let his murmured words wash over her.  It was comforting, knowing that he was as dedicated as she to help Lucas.  She knew one thing that she should do immediately.  It was a gross violation of Lucas' privacy, but, with Nathan's help and permission, she would look the boy over now, while he was heavily sedated, and that would probably confirm the suspected abuse.  Decided, she stepped back from Nathan's encircling arms.

"Nathan, I want to examine him now.  He is deeply asleep and should not be disturbed by a careful check."

He looked at her steadily for a long moment.  "Is—is this ethical?  Shouldn't you have his permission?"

"Technically, his father signed a waiver for necessary medical treatment when Lucas came aboard.  I have broad latitude as to what I consider 'necessary'"

He nodded and opened her office door.  "How can I help?"

"I'll need you to help me move him and sign as a witness for what we find.  I want to keep this between us until we have a chance to talk to Lucas directly.  I won't do a full physical.  I would probably wake him if I attempted it, but what I have in mind is not as invasive.."

"What_ do_ you have in mind?"

"Naturally, I want to check his torso for the scars Jonathan and Katie noticed.  I'll probably need to measure and photograph them.  Depending on what they look like, I'll want to x-ray him."

"Why?"

"If he was…is…abused, he'll likely have multiple calcified healed breaks.  They'll show up on the x-rays."

"God…."

"I know.  I hate this.  Can you go along with this?  I firmly believe that this exam can't wait any longer.  Now, after seeing that last dream and its effect on him, I believe that this will be the quickest confirmation of what we..have….suspected to be true."

Nathan's eyes met hers.  "Let's get to it."

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Frankie, Becky (glad you're back) and Jules (I love your stories) and all other reviewers, thanks!  I'm just now getting to the beginning point of the story I want to tell, so I hope you stick with me to the end.

Too Young

Chapter Five 

The Exam

Nathan helped Kristen shift the sleeping boy to a sitting position, and then he watched as she carefully removed the sling.  He held Lucas in place while Kristen slipped the teen's shirt over his head, taking care not to disturb the bandage on his arm.  The tape had peeled away from his skin and his forearm was red where he'd scratched it.

"I'll change the bandage when we are done."

Kristen motioned Nathan to lay Lucas down again, close to the right side of the bed.  Together, they coordinated their movements and smoothly turned him onto his stomach.  Kristen adjusted his injured arm so it was not under his body, and then turned up the lights.  They got their first good look at his back.  Nathan shut his eyes, shocked speechless.  The image of Lucas' back stayed with him, though.  It was burned into his brain.  Dimly, he could hear Kristen's involuntary gasp.  "Oh, dear Lord….how much pain he has endured…"

Nathan opened his eyes.  His hands were shaking, so he clenched his fists.  He wanted to hit something.  Needed to hit something—or someone.  He had two thoughts warring in his brain.  He wanted to find and kill Lawrence Wolenczak—slowly.  He wanted to never see Lawrence Wolenczak, for fear of what he'd do to him if the man, _the monster_, was ever in the same room with him.  Kristen's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Nathan, I need to get the calipers out of the cabinet—Nathan…"  She continued gently.  "..Are you all right?"

"No…no.. I'm not."  His voice was rough with emotion; she watched a tear trail down his face.  He brushed it away.  His eyes were locked on Lucas' bare skin.

Scars overlapped his back.  Some were faint lines, flat on the dermis and as wide as his thumb.  Other scars were raised above the smooth surface of the boy's skin.  They were as thin as a pencil, and darker in color.  These raised scars must be the ones that Jonathan and Katie had seen.  

Kristen had returned with her supplies.  She took a deep breath and handed Nathan Lucas' chart; it was turned to a blank page.  "Please record for me."  She had succeeded in pushing her emotions down for now.  She needed to be professional and not make any mistakes.  Quite likely, the evidence they were gathering today would be used in a future court case.  She hoped that Lucas would forgive them this breech of his privacy.

"Nathan, write down the measurements as I give them to you.  I will add medical opinions later.  Are you ready?"

"Yes."

He watched her count the wider scars, triple-checked to make sure she was accurate, and then she measured each one in length and width.  "Twenty-seven scars, varying from 3 to 3.5 centimeters in width."  She then followed the same procedure with the raised scar tissue.  "Thirty-two raised scars, all with a width of 1 centimeter, and a height of 0.2 centimeters.  All scars have different lengths, but the consistency of width suggests that the same instrument was used to inflict all the tears in his skin and muscle."

She looked up at Nathan, and he could see the sorrow in her eyes.  "Nathan,  I believe that all of these were caused by the same thing, probably an electrical cord or a whip."

He swallowed noisily, pushing bile down, clearing his throat.  "Then…why the difference in size?"

Her eyes were sad.  "It looks to me as if the flatter scars come from an incident when Lucas was much younger, possibly six to seven years ago.  He would have been smaller when the damage was done, and as he grew.."

"The scars would spread and stretch."  Nathan felt very ill.

"Yes, you notice that the raised scars overlap in some places the fainter, flat scars, so they must have come from a more recent….event, probably less than a year ago."

"So, Gator may have seen the outward evidence of this more recent beating, the blood on Lucas' shirt he noticed when he brought him aboard?  The..the..how many?"  He looked down at the chart.  "The _thirty-two_…"  As he spoke, he ran his finger along one raised scar.  Lucas' skin twitched at the sensation.  Nathan's face had lost most of its color. "How..how did he walk around and function?  I remember that first week—that debacle with Marilyn Stark—he was in the thick of that."

"Nathan,"  Kristen said patiently, "He has probably had a lot of practice hiding his pain."

He didn't need to hear that.  Didn't want to know that—imagine it.  To imagine this boy as a younger child, hurting and alone.  And a father, _a father_, causing it.  "Still, how did we—how did _I_ not notice it?  I can't.."

"You can not blame yourself.  If anyone is to blame…I should have followed up on his medical file immediately."

"Kristen, no…"

She shook his hand off her arm.  She didn't want his comfort.  She was responsible for Lucas' medical care, and she had neglected him.  He had suffered needlessly for months; she did not believe for one moment that these nightmares were unusual.  The poor child probably had screaming horrors for dreams most nights.  Her daughter, Cynthia, had experienced 'night terrors' when she was six.  Those dreams launched her screaming into her mother's bed.  Lucas' 'night terrors' were real, had a face, were painful memories that surfaced in his sleep.  She shook her head more violently.

"No, Nathan—I will finish this, but I do _not _excuse myself."

She slipped past him and picked up the digital camera.  She steadied her hands and snapped several shots from different angles, recording the scar tissue.

Nathan said quietly, "Will you need to x-ray him?"  
            "Yes.  Help me move him to the table."  She spread a heated blanket on the x-ray table, and motioned Nathan to transfer Lucas to the warmed surface.  Nathan carefully rolled Lucas onto his back and picked him up.  He did not stir, his body lax in Nathan's arms as he carried him to Kristen.

Kristen positioned Lucas gently, asking for Nathan's assistance when she had to shift the boy for a new x-ray.  

"It will take a few minutes for the film to develop.  You can move him back to the bed.  He will be more comfortable there."

Nathan moved him and waited. 

He had covered Lucas with the blanket and now sat, his hand resting on Lucas' leg.  His heart was heavy.  He felt so old right now, so unprepared to deal with this, to look into this boy's sky blue eyes and question him about—this.  How could he help him?  In all his years, he had never been in a situation _like_ this.  He decided that as soon as it was a reasonable hour, he would call Admiral…no, he corrected himself…Acting-Secretary General Noyce.  Bill might have an idea of how to get Lucas away from his father, to ensure that this never happened again.

Across the room, Kristen attached the x-rays to the reader.  As she reached over to turn on the back light, Nathan came over and stood next to her.  "I know what we are looking for, but what will it look like?"

She had turned on the light.  Her voice wavered for the first time since they began.  "It looks like this…and this…and this—oh lord, so many."  Kristen's finger was moving rapidly from one healed break to another.  Nathan quickly lost count, and just stared, picking them out for himself now that he knew what he was looking at.  

Kristen gripped the counter ledge.  "Please get his chart.  I need to dictate this to you."  

She waited for him to return.  He motioned for her to begin.  "Spiral fracture, skull.  Evidence of two other skull fractures.  Mandible and maxilla fractures.  Multiple rib fractures—God—I count sixteen.  His radius and ulna, both arms, broken twice, and a third nasty compound fracture of his right arm…funny..that looks to be in the same place as his stitches, but I did not notice a scar there….multiple breaks of his phalanges.  Oh Lord…this thumb joint has been practically crushed."  Her voice was soft and steady again, but Nathan could see the tears running unchecked down her face.  She rubbed at them in an irritated manner.  "Pelvis looks O.K., as do his vertebra.  I guess he was not trying to _cripple _him.  Three fractures of the left femur, two on right…I…I didn't expect it to be this bad, Nathan.  Right patella has been pinned surgically.  God above..who would do this medical work and _not report it_?  This should have been discovered and stopped long ago."  She looked over to Lucas and said tenderly, "..oh my poor boy,  suffering…this"   She met Nathan's eyes.  He registered the fact that her eyes were haunted now, red and watering still.  Concerned, he led her to a chair.  "You need a break.  Let's sit down and…"

"No.  I need to finish this.  Did you get all that down?"

"All the fractures, yes.  I left out your editorializing."

She gave him a wisp of a smile.  "I'm done with these."  She tore the x-rays from their clips and stuffed them hurriedly in the marked envelope as if they were contaminated.  "I will file them for…later.  I need to examine the stitches and change his bandage.  I want to check that area carefully anyway.  There should be a scar from that compound fracture shown on his x-rays.  I didn't notice it earlier."

She had Nathan sit Lucas up again, and they put his shirt back on, gingerly drawing his injured arm through the rolled sleeve.  Kristen peeled the rest of the tape away; again, Lucas did not move.  

"How much sedative did you give him?"  Nathan wondered at the boy's stillness.  He was a bit worried at the boy's lack of reaction.

"Enough."  Kristen said shortly.  

"O.K., Doctor.  I'll stop practicing medicine without a license."  That got a slightly larger smile, and Nathan congratulated himself for achieving his goal to relax her a bit.

"This wound is graining nicely.  I do not see any redness now, except these scratches he made in his dream."  She blew out a breath. She was searching around the stitches.  "I don't see any scarring here."  She looked closer now, her nose almost touching Lucas' skin.  "What…what is this?  Nathan, can you see this?  Wait.. this will be better.  Close your eyes and give me your hand."  

Nathan gave her a puzzled look, but complied.  She checked to see that his eyes were closed and took his wrist in both her hands.  "I am going to lift your arm and move it, so that just your fingertips are touching Lucas' arm.  As I do so, describe what you are feeling."

Eyes tightly closed, Nathan felt her move his arm, and then he felt his fingertips sliding over the surface of the teen's arm.  "It feels smooth.  I can feel some hair…wait..wait, that felt like a bump."  She stopped his hand, lifted it and began running his fingers a different direction.  "Smooth..smooth..wait.  There's a ridge here."

"Open your eyes, Nathan."  She directed him to lean close to Lucas' arm.  

"Do you see it?  You felt it…I can see it now that I know it is there, but I did not notice it before."  She watched him silently.

Nathan looked intently at the boy's skin.  He could see where the stitches were, of course.  But above and slightly to the right—wasn't that a line?  He ran his fingers over it experimentally.  Yes.  That is what he had felt.  He turned to Kristen, puzzled.

"It is a plastic surgery scar, Nathan."  She looked ill.  "I think he may have more of them in other places, too.  I have never noticed a scar on his right knee, and he would have one from that surgery.  Someone has done their best to hide the evidence of these injuries."

"You mean _his father_."  Nathan spat out the title as if it had a bad taste.

"It looks that way.  But we still need Lucas' confirmation.  Beside his abuser, he is the only witness as to what caused all of this…damage."  Her arm gestured toward the side table holding the chart, x-rays, and camera.  "We have recorded the aftermath, but we need his account as well."

She turned away from Nathan and taped a gauze pad over Lucas' stitches, then unrolled his sleeve and pulled the blanket back over him.  She shut off the light illuminating the bed.

"It is two a.m.  We need to rest too.  I will sit here with him for a while.  I'll page you if there is any change.  Try to get some sleep."

"What about you?"

"I will sleep in this bed next to his.  If he stirs, I will hear him."  She touched Nathan's face.  "Thank you for your help."  He hugged her, held her for a few moments, and then he left for his cabin.

Minutes later, in his bed, he prayed that in the morning, his course of action would be clear.  He prayed that Kristen would forgive herself and let go of the guilt she was carrying.  Most of all, he prayed for a troubled boy to open up and let them help him.  Please, God.  Give him a peaceful night's sleep, good dreams. Please God.  His mind was filled with what he had just seen, but his weariness won out, his eyes closed, and he slept.

The insistent buzzing infuriated him.  He swatted at the noise, and then sat up abruptly when his PAL fell to the floor.  He picked it up and answered.

"Captain Bridger here"

"Captain, I have a call for you."

He recognized Lt. O'Neill's voice, but his tone was cold…icy.  "Yes, Lieutenant."

"Captain..I have Secretary General Noyce on the vidlink.."

"Well, transfer it, Lieutenant."  He knew he sounded testy, but he was still so tired, and Tim should know to put Bill directly through.

"Captain…He is with Dr. Wolenczak"

Nathan closed his eyes.  "Thank you, Tim.  Give me five minutes, then transfer it."

"Very good sir."  Tim severed the link.

Nathan looked up.  "You've got a good sense of humor, big guy, answering that prayer this way."

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Enjoy!

Too Young

Chapter Six 

Lawrence Calls

At his sink, Nathan splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up.  He ran his wet hands through his hair, then combed it down and straightened his wrinkled uniform.  He had fallen asleep in it.  Checking his chronometer, he realized that he had three more minutes before Lt. O'Neill would transfer the call.  He paged Kristen.

"Dr. Westphalen here."

"It's Nathan.  How is he?"

"Still asleep.  Ben and Miguel are here, but they are behaving themselves for once.  They are just sitting with him."

"Kristen, Bill will be calling me back in a few minutes.  I asked Lt. O'Neill to hold the call…."

            "Whatever for?"

            "Bill…..and …Dr. Wolenczak want to talk with me."

            "Oh, Nathan…"  
            "Yes.  I'm not ready for this.  I don't have the slightest idea of how to handle it."

            "I do _not_ know what to tell you, but keep the conversation civil for Lucas' sake.  We still need to discuss our medical findings with him."

            "I know…"  The vidlink tone sounded.  "Kristen, it's Bill.  I'll come to Med Bay when we're done.  I still have a few hours free before my shift."

            She nodded as he closed the channel.

            "Captain."

            "Yes, Lieutenant.  Patch it through to my quarters."

            Nathan stood at attention in front of the vidlink, hands clenched tightly behind him.  He _would control_ his temper..'just keep telling yourself that old man.' He thought wryly.

            The image of Acting Secretary-General Noyce appeared..and—Lawrence Wolenczak was seated to his right.  

            "Hello, Bill, Dr. Wolenczak."

            "Hello, Nathan."  Bill greeted him, too cheery for this early in the morning, Nathan thought.  Lawrence just nodded.

            Nathan studied him.  Lucas was obviously this man's son. The eyebrows, the shape of the eyes and the high cheekbones--Lawrence had passed these features on to his son.  His eyes were brown, however, and he hid his feelings well.  When Nathan looked into Lucas' eyes, he almost always knew what the boy was thinking or feeling.  If 'the eyes were the windows to the soul', Lucas' eyes displayed a soul filled with excitement, and the joy and awe of discovery.  His father's eyes, however, revealed nothing.  Bill's voice drew his attention.

            "Nathan, you look tired."  

            "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?  What's on your mind, Secretary Noyce?

            Bill smiled at the formality.  Two could play this game.  "_Captain_, I wanted to give you your new assignment.  You need to proceed to Pearl immediately and pick us up.  There is a…"

            "Wait.  Wait.  We just received our orders.  We are already underway to the Black Ridge farming community to assist them in…"

            "I know."  Bill interrupted.  "I've changed your orders.  Dr. Wolenczak and I need a ride to World Power.  He is also taking Lucas off your hands indefinitely—World Power's security system has had two serious breeches, and Lucas will be invaluable to the facility as it sets up a new system.  It takes a hacker.."

            "To stop a hacker.  Yes, I'm familiar with the saying, Bill, but Lucas is a vital member of _my crew_."

            Dr. Wolenczak spoke for the first time.  "Lucas is _my son_.  I will remove him from seaQuest when I see fit."  Nathan leaned forward. 'Hold your temper, old man.' He reminded himself.  Lawrence noted his hesitation for what it was, or perhaps he was studying Nathan's eyes as well…

            Dr. Wolenczak's eyes were now cold.  His voice rose slightly in impatience.  "I am…grateful you have found a use for him, Captain, but I have need of him now, so please see that he is informed."

            "Don't you want to speak to him yourself?"

            "There is no need.  My son will do as I tell him."

            Bill had caught the undercurrent of a power struggle between the two men, and he tried to ease the tension.  "Nathan…it will take us several hours to reach the World Power plant from Pearl once you pick us up.  We'll have time to discuss this in greater detail along the way."

            "Bill…I need to speak with you—privately, please."

            "Captain Bridger.  If this concerns my son, I should be included in…"

            Nathan's eyes narrowed.  '…keep your temper..' "Doctor.  I am _most anxious_ to speak with you about your son.  However, I do need to speak to Secretary Noyce now……_alone."_

Bill looked over at Dr. Wolenczak.  "Will you excuse us Lawrence?"

            For a moment, Nathan thought that Dr. Wolenczak would refuse to leave.  Then the Doctor smiled without warmth and rose to his feet.  "I _look forward_ to speaking with you also, _Captain._"  His voice, disdainful and arrogant, hung like a miasma in the silence as they waited for him to exit.

            "_Captain Bridger!_  _Nathan!!  _What are you doing?  Don't _insult_ him, or you may never see Lucas on seaQuest again.  He may just decide…"

            Nathan slammed both hands down on his desk and Bill stopped, shocked.

            "Bill!  His son is lying in Med Bay sedated!  I was up half the night with Dr. Westphalen _counting whip scars_ on that poor boy's back and…"

            "WHAT?  Is he all right?  What happened?  Why didn't you discuss this with Lawr…"

            "BE QUIET!!"  Nathan roared, he was venting all his frustration, anxiety, and grief at his best friend.  He couldn't seem to stop himself.

            "I…I…._Nathan---"  _Bill looked so wounded that Nathan felt immediate remorse.  This was not Bill's fault.

            "Bill…I am sorry…Please just listen…please listen to me to the end and don't interrupt…please."

            Bill closed his still-open mouth, sat back, and waited.

            "Lucas has been having nightmares…disturbing, harrowing dreams.  The senior staff and I witnessed one when Lucas fell asleep before a staff meeting.  The other took place a few hours ago in Med Bay.  To make a long story short, Kristen and I suspect that _Wolenczak_ has been abusing…abuses his son.  Lucas has multiple healed fractures—_over seventy—_showed up on his x-rays, Bill!  _Over seventy_!  Put that together with what he says during these nightmares…and the scars on his back…Lawrence Wolenczak _will not_ take Lucas off this ship!"

            "Have you asked Lucas about…this?"

            "No, he hasn't slept much in the last twenty-four hours—originally, we were just concerned about him working too hard, and the wound on his arm.."

            "What happened to his arm?"

            "Simple accident.  His right arm needed stitches, and then he didn't show up the next day to get them checked.  Kristen started looking for him---tracking him down revealed all he'd been up to…."

            "And all this information came from that?"

            "Yes.  Kristen and I witnessed his latest nightmare in Med Bay.  Bill, he was so terrified…so terrified that Kristen sedated him.  She conducted an exam early this morning, and, well, you know what we found."

            "Is he awake now?"

            "No.  I checked with Kristen right before you called back."

            Bill's face was pale, his eyes slightly red, and as he spoke, his voice betrayed him.  "Look…Nathan.  I'll stall Lawrence for a while.  Take your time getting here.  Talk to Lucas and see what you can find out from him.  But _we will _need you to be here by tomorrow morning at the very latest.  Dr. Wolenczak has a schedule to keep with visitors from the Confederated areas, and _as acting Secretary-General_.."

            "You get to baby sit."

            "Exactly.  Nathan…I'm sorry.  If I'd had _any _idea.."

            "I know, Bill."

            "Tell Lucas….well, tell him he can count on me if he needs anything.  I really like the kid, and I think that he is twice the scientist his father will ever be.  I'd like to see him stay on seaQuest."

            "Thanks, Bill.  And again….I'm sorry I yelled at you.  I know you are not the one at fault here."

            Bill waved him off.  "Call me tonight with an update, Nathan."

            "I will."  Nathan closed the vidlink, and as he did so, he realized that his palms were sweating. 'Way to control your temper, old man', he thought as he left his cabin for Med Bay.

Nathan squeezed through the Mag Lev doors as soon as they began to open.  He could hear Lucas screaming.  In Med Bay, Kristen barked orders to Miguel and Ben, who were trying to restrain the teen.  She waved Nathan forward to help.  

Miguel lay on top of Lucas' legs, holding tightly to his feet.  Lucas still managed to scissor his lower legs in an effort to break free. 

Ben's hands held Lucas' wrists pinned to the bed, and Kristen was trying to hang onto his shoulders to keep him from hurting himself or one of them.

"What…what should I do?"

"Nathan!  Thank God—he went from deeply asleep to _this._  He has been screaming for.."  She glanced at the wall. "…two minutes now.  He has yelled for you a few times.  I'm surprised that half the crew isn't standing at the door."

Lucas screamed and bucked upward, tearing one hand free from Ben' grasp.  Nathan held the boy's chest down to the bed, and Ben recaptured the boy's hand.  

"Lucas!  LUCAS!  It's Captain Bridger.  Wake up…you're safe…wake up.."

Lucas thrashed on the bed, his head whipping from side to side.  He was wet with perspiration, and he had his eyes tightly shut.  "CAPTAIN!!  HELP US!!"

"Lucas…oh kiddo, I'm right here."  Nathan's soft voice seemed to work better than his shouting had.  Lucas' body relaxed slightly; he was muttering now, his eyes fluttering open.  Tears began to leak out and run down to the pillow under his head.

"…Captain…we're here…God, its so cold….we're stuck in here, and the room's filling up with water, th..there's no where to go!…Captain!"  Although his eyes were now mostly open, Lucas' gaze was unfocused and distant.  "Captain!  Help us! It's so c..c..cold…so c..c..cold  p..p..please h..hurry."

Kristen's horrified eyes met Nathan's.  She _knew_ what he was dreaming about, and she could see that same knowledge reflected in Nathan's eyes.  Two weeks ago, Lucas was the guest of the then Secretary-General Andrea Dre, at the Middle Americas Undersea Resort.  He, along with the heads of the ten confederations, ended up in a hidden sunken room under the resort.  Nathan had rescued them all, and exposed Secretary Dre as a traitor, but by the time Nathan got to them, the room was mostly flooded.

"Lucas…look at me…look at us…you're on seaQuest…you're safe.." Nathan clasped his hands to Lucas' cheeks, holding his head steady and trying to capture his gaze.  

He looked briefly at the others.  "Let go of him…I think he's about awake."

He turned back to find Lucas looking at him, his eyes large and luminescent with unshed tears.  "Captain? Wh…where?

Nathan held the boy's hand and said gently, "You're here in Med Bay.  You were dreaming."

Lucas blinked.  He looked around, puzzled, then embarrassed as he saw Ben and Miguel's twin expressions of concern.  "I..I'm sorry…I..I.. mean.."

"Lucas, you did nothing wrong.  You've had another bad dream, and we are all concerned about you."

"I..I'm fine now, Captain."

Lucas withdrew his hand from Nathan's and sat up.  He ran his hand through his hair, lifting the sweaty strands away from his forehead, then quickly swiped a hand across his eyes.  He started to stand.

"Don't you even _think_ of leaving that bed, young man.  You have had a high fever, and until I am sure that you are fully recovered, you will stay here."  Kristen said firmly.

Lucas rolled his eyes and leaned back against the pillow.  He wanted to get away and be by himself; he shuddered involuntarily in reaction to the too fresh memory of being trapped, and then rubbed his wrists absently.  'It was just a dream', he told himself firmly, 'get over it already'.  He looked up as Ben touched his arm.

"Lucas.." Ben said tentatively, "..I didn't hurt you, did I?  When I held you down?  I..I was afraid that you would…"

"You had to hold me down?  What..why..?"  Lucas looked at them, startled.  He remembered dreaming, of course.  In his dream, the panic of the others as the room began to fill with water..President Che's kindness to him, holding him when Captain Bridger began to cut through the ceiling.  He'd still been burned by the sparks falling from the laser cutter, but he probably would have been killed by the falling circle of the ceiling if Che hadn't acted and pulled him back.  He had frozen in place when the circle appeared above him.  It looked like..like…the rim of **_the well._**  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  He was ashamed to realize that he was shaking, and he couldn't control it.  He was shivering, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.  As if from a great distance he heard Dr. Westphalen.

"Lucas…Lucas _look_ at me."

He met her worried gaze and then looked down.  He couldn't stop shaking.  He tried, but he couldn't stop.  Why couldn't he stop?

"Miguel, Ben, bring me those blankets.  Nathan, sit next to him and help him put his head between his knees.  He's going into shock."

He felt the Captain push his head down, felt the blankets over his shoulders, and was absolutely mortified when he began to cry, softly at first, but then more audibly.  Thoughts chased each other like rabbits through his head.  'What must they think of me. What kind of person gets this wrecked over _a dream, for god's sake? _Lucas, get your self under control.  You can handle this, you need to handle this, and you need to handle it alone.  If they find out…._'_

His determination crumbled so easily.  All it took was Captain Bridger's hand on his back and his strong, steady voice.  "It's all right..whatever is bothering you…it's O.K.  I want you to…need you to talk to me, to us.  Lucas, we want to help you; can't you understand how much we want to help you?  How much we all care about you?"

Nathan had been gently rubbing the boy's back when he felt him begin to cry.  He had no idea how to help him, and he felt incredibly guilty after hearing this particular dream.  He _had_ rescued Lucas and the others, but then he hadn't followed up with the boy afterward.  Honestly, he'd had his own nightmares about that day, dreams where things had turned out much differently, and Dre had succeeded in killing them all.  Dreams where he cut open the ceiling only to see their lifeless bodies floating below him.

He hadn't wanted to think about that day, nor talk about it, but Lucas _had lived_ through that, and he'd never taken the time to see if he was O.K.  He pulled the boy into a hug.  Lucas was stiff for a moment, and then he relaxed in his arms.  He was crying harder now, trying to talk, and Nathan had to strain to hear him.  "I…I was so scared…there was no way out…no way to climb out…and all the water, kept falling…so cold…"

Nathan hugged him tighter.  He looked over the boy's head and met Ben's eyes; they were full of anguish.  Miguel was trying unsuccessfully to hide his tears, and Kristen had her hand on his arm, patting him, tears running down her cheeks.  

As he rubbed Lucas' back, Nathan remembered the rescue.  Lucas had let everyone climb up ahead of him.  By the time the last two or three delegates ascended the rope, the water was so deep that everyone was floating or treading water.  Lucas waited until the end, and by the time he got to the top, his face was tight with exhaustion, teeth chattering, lips bluish-purple.  But he had smiled at Nathan and said shakily, "..T…th..th..thank you..C..C…Cap. I k..k..knew y..y..you'd c..c.c..come."  Nathan had noted Lucas' silence when they confronted Dre, and how withdrawn he was on the shuttle back to seaQuest.  He had dismissed it then as tiredness. 'Big mistake, Captain.'  He thought bitterly.

For two weeks, Lucas had relived that day in dreams, and it could have been avoided...he could have at the very least insisted that Lucas discuss it with a counselor.  He realized, with shame, that he'd encouraged Bill to make such counseling available to the delegates, but had been oblivious to Lucas' need to come to terms with the kidnapping.  Kristen read his thoughts.

"Why…why didn't I get someone to talk with him about this?  Kristen…he's been dreaming…this"

"I know." 

He could tell by her expression that she shared his guilt.

Lucas' breath was hitching in his throat, and he wiped his face with his left sleeve.  "I..I'll be all right.  I…I.."

"You aren't 'all right'.  Your nightmares are getting more frequent and more violent.  You need to talk to someone about what is really bothering you."  Kristen had cupped Lucas' chin in her hand and lifted his face so he was looking at her.  "You are reacting to the kidnapping of two weeks ago, you are reliving it, you were reliving it in this dream anyway, but you are also dreaming about…other things.  Your father, a well, and…rats.   Lucas, it is time for some truth between us.  You need to tell us…the entire truth about what brought you to seaQuest."

She turned her gaze to Nathan.  "It is time for even harsh truths to be told."

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Enjoy!

Too Young

Chapter Seven

Harsh Truths

Nathan felt Lucas stiffen and pull away at Kristen's words.  

"Wh..What?  I..told you the truth.  I've never _lied _to you…any of you."  His voice cracked at the end, but he was succeeding now in his effort to control his emotions.

Nathan let his arms slip away from the boy.  Lucas' eyes darted from Kristen's face to his.  "Wh..what do you mean, what brought me to SeaQuest?  My father brought me here."  His voice held little bitterness, and he glanced quickly over to Miguel and Ben.  "I'm not sorry he did.  I…I..it was just …frightening at first."

"Lucas, you did not come here of your own free will?  It was not your choice?"  Kristen pulled a rolling stool over and sat in front of the boy.

He glanced sideways at her, unwilling to meet her steady gaze.  "I….yes,..my dad insisted that I come here.  Of the choices he gave me, this was the best.  But I wanted to remain at Stanford until I completed my PhD, and…"

Nathan put his index finger to the boy's lips.  He did not want this conversation to get side tracked.  Lucas was a master at that, evading subjects that he didn't want to discuss.  "Lucas, tell us, tell _me_ about your dreams of the past two weeks—please."

"You and Kristen _know_ about the sunken room at the resort…you were there.  That…that's in the past…I…don't want to talk about that."

"Lucas, please—talk to me, to us.  We want to understand why you've been so afraid."  He waited a moment, then prompted, "This last dream—you were in the conference room with the delegates?"

"Y..Yes.  The water…so..c..c..cold, Captain….I ..I trust you, I hope you know that.  But my past isn't just about me.  I…can't tell you, not now."

"Lucas, you can tell us, trust us.  We will help you get free of your father."

Lucas shivered.  His father….he loathed and loved his father.  He never wanted to see his father again, and he wanted to rest in his father's arms.  How could they help him fix things with his father when _he_ didn't know what he wanted?  He stuck his shaking hands under his legs.  "I…I.. want to tell you, I do, but—it doesn't matter, do you see?  It wouldn't matter.  You cannot change _any of it._  And it would be dangerous for me to tell you….all."

Ben knelt next to him.  "Lucas, I am your friend."  

Lucas smiled softly at him.  "Yes, Ben, you are."

Ben continued.  "Lucas, I, or any of us, would do whatever it takes to keep you safe from now on…God…you've suffered enough.  Let us help you."

Lucas stared at Ben.  He knew he meant it—they all did.  He could see the conviction on Ben's face, on Miguel's too—but they didn't know what they were getting into, and he didn't have the right to drag them in, did he?  No.  He did not.  He would handle his father himself.  He had been doing that for years.  He could do it awhile longer.

Nathan's words drew his attention.  "Lucas, tell me—tell us…what you have been dreaming."

Nathan was determined to dig this infected splinter of a dream out of the boy's mind.  Whatever was in his past was coming out in his dreams.  Somehow, the events of the kidnapping had brought these terrifying memories to the surface, and Nathan did not want Lucas to suffer through them alone one more day.

Lucas smiled tremulously at him, but shook his head.  "No.  I can handle this, my father…don't you see?  You can not be involved.  You don't know what he's…"

"Capable of?"  Nathan finished, and then decided to risk pushing the boy a little.  They were running out of time.  He swallowed and began, "Lucas, there is no easy way to say this, but both Commander Ford and Lt. Commander Hitchcock have seen the scars on your back."

Lucas' eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but Nathan continued before he could speak.  "Dr. Westphalen and I examined you last night, and…"

He flinched.  "You…you what?  When….last night?  Last night I..I was asleep.  You did an exam without my permission?  You just…just.. did it?  

Lucas' wondering eyes met his, then snapped over to catch Kristen's faltering gaze.  "How…how could you _do that?_  What gives you the right to invade…"

His voice was rising.

"Lucas."  Nathan's tone stopped the teen cold.  The betrayal in Lucas' eyes was devastating, but Nathan had to continue.  "Before.." He cleared his throat.  "Before we go any further with this conversation—do you want Ben and Miguel to stay?  I am sure that they both.."

"Why?!…were _they here last night too?_  Did..did you invite the crew in…to watch?…While you …did…whatever you did?  Just how _complete an exam was this?_"  Lucas was red-faced now, and his mouth was trembling with fury.  Nathan could see the rage in his narrowed eyes, eyes that a few minutes ago had been wide with fear.  This _was not_ going well.

"Lucas,"  Kristen began.  "Do you want them to sta…"

"NO!!  No I don't want them to stay!  I don't want to stay!  How dare you do this…any of this…without my permission?  What was the reason for this?  You just couldn't wait to talk to me?  Sedate me and then…do this?  Why didn't you just WAKE ME UP??"  Lucas shouted at them, now absolutely furious.

Involuntarily, Miguel stepped forward, remembering having to hold the screaming boy down just a little while ago.  Lucas saw the movement.

"LEAVE!!"  He shouted.  "Just..just…leave…please.." His voice broke at the end.

Ben leaned forward as if to hug Lucas, but the boy, shamed beyond words, twisted away from him.

Miguel took Ben's arm and half led, half dragged him out of the room.  "Just give him some space, Ben…let them talk to him."  Miguel's voice trailed off as they left, closing the door behind them.

Lucas stared at the floor.  Oh, God…did they know everything?  Yet..what could they know?  The physical damage to his back, yes.  But that was such a small part of what happened…

Kristen startled him when she took his clenched fist in her hands.  "Lucas, please look at me.  As your physician, I made the decision that I could not wait for you to awaken.  And I believed that we needed an immediate confirmation of what we suspected to be true."

"What…what you suspected?"  Lucas' hand shook in hers.  His voice was low now, raw from shouting.

"We had come to believe that your father…abused you.. that, indeed, your back was beaten raw when you came aboard four months ago."

Lucas closed his eyes.  He wanted to remove his hand from hers, but he needed the contact, too.  He would miss this…miss her.  And the Captain….He feared this day above even the beatings inflicted by his drunken father.  Now, they would tell him that they couldn't handle this sort of problem here.  They would refer him to a counselor…the counselor would call social services, and he would find himself in a different place, with strangers paid by the state to take him in.  Eventually, usually in just a few weeks, his father would bribe someone, and the child abuse report would…go away. Back to his father's house he would go.  How many times had he lived this?  Four?  Five?  No.  This would be number five.  He couldn't do this again.  And now that he was almost old enough, he had made his own arrangements to prevent it.  But his timing was off; his plan had begun, but he was not yet ready to put the final part in action.  Bad luck, Lucas.  Big surprise…Lucas has bad luck.

Nathan had been studying the boy's face.  He said hestitantly, "Lucas, you asked about the exam.  I gave Dr. Westphalen permission to proceed.  Kristen just looked at your back and took x-rays.  It was not a complete physical….but it was enough.  I'm sure you know very well what we found."

Lucas just waited.  He wanted them to get it over with already.  Why didn't they just tell him who would be picking him up and when?  He felt like he was caught in a time loop, replaying the same disgustingly familiar series of events.  He hoped…oh he hoped that this time would be different---this time he and those he loved would be free.

For a while, all three sat in silence.  Kristen wanted to draw the teen close, but she was afraid that he would push her away.  She had betrayed him.  So she settled for holding his hand.

Nathan looked at their joined hands.  He put his own over both, and the tenderness of it surprised Kristen.  Lucas looked over at him, and Nathan saw the hopelessness in the boy's eyes.  They were dark with fear and pain.  He didn't know what to say, but he knew he must do his best for this child they both loved.  "Lucas..when we…when I saw all of your x-rays, I wanted to …hurt your father…I still want to.  But as much as I want that, I want to help you more.  Please tell us what you want….you need from us.  Secretary-General Noyce…Bill..also said that he would help you however he can…."

Lucas eyes widened.  "Secretary-General Noyce?  How does he know….any…of this?

Nathan squeezed the hands under his.  "I didn't …intend to tell him, but when he called with our new orders.."

"It just slipped out?"  Lucas smiled coldly.  Nathan's stomach clenched when he saw how much, with this expression, the boy resembled Lawrence.

"No.  NO!  Lucas, Bill's orders involved picking him up at Pearl to transport him to World Power."

Lucas jerked his hand free from theirs.  He hugged himself.  Oh, man.  Were they just taking him to his father, then?  Maybe, maybe…his timing didn't stink after all.  If he could just get a hold of Mike…

Nathan had gently covered his hand again.  Lucas looked up at him and wondered at the pain he saw in his Captain's eyes.  "Lucas….your…your..father is with Bill.  We are supposed to pick them both up by tomorrow morning."

Lucas smiled grimly.  "Good…that should make it easier on you to transfer me to him.  That's why he's coming, right?  He wants me to do something for him?  He's taking me away with him…"

"Lucas…we don't want you to go, but your father has custody of you, and we need you.."

"..To go with him?"

"No!  No…we need you to help us…help you..help you get away from him…you need to tell us what he's done to you—and you telling us about these dreams will be a good starting point.  Lucas…please.  The physical evidence is here, on this table, but we need your corroboration to build a case against your father. "

Lucas just glared at the two of them.  His entire body was shaking now.  He did not want this, any of this…he sighed heavily, then sat, silent.

Kristen glanced at Nathan.  Then she spoke the words that she hoped would push him to reveal his secrets.  "Lucas, tell us about your father…and the well..and the rats."

Lucas paled as she spoke, his breathing became jerky, and for a few minutes, Kristen thought that she had pushed too hard, that he would faint.  Nathan put his hand around Lucas' waist to support him, but the teen scooted away.  He was shaking harder now, tremors in his hands and twitches around his eyes revealed how much adrenaline was pumping through his bloodstream.

"I…I..told you, I've already done this.  I don't want to go through it again."  He briefly met Nathan's eyes, then looked at the floor again.  He realized that they were not…would not give up—maybe, maybe they would….understand?  He didn't know what to do anymore.  He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

Nathan had been studying the boy.  Lucas' eyes were downcast, but his face wore a familiar look of concentration, like he was wrestling with a problem, unable to decide on a solution.

Lucas' eyes skated back up to the Captain's face.  He was so afraid.  What options did he have now?  He could stay quiet and let his dad take him—his father would be here in a few hours.  Lucas shivered and pushed that thought aside.  He concentrated instead on the last four months…the people here he'd come to know.  He trusted them…The captain, Dr. Westphalen, Ben, Tim, Miguel, Jonathan, Katie, Chief Crocker.  He remembered the last time he'd been forced to talk—forced to confront his past.  He took a chance then…what..what should he do?  He was tired of fighting them, fighting to keep them out.  He decided to ….give…up.  Give in to them, tell them everything…eventually. But he…he would choose how he told it, when he told it…like before.  He straightened, resolute in his decision, and turned to Kristen.

"I..I talked to a counselor.."

"When?"  Kristen looked curious.  She wondered at his words, and wanted so much to ease his pain, the anguish that these dreams brought.

"At Stanford.  My..my dorm supervisor made an appointment for me with his minister…I was waking my room mate up most nights with my screaming.  He got sick of it and complained to Mike.."

"Mike was your dorm supervisor?"

"Yes"

"Did the counselor..the minister..help you?"

Did counseling help him…the simple answer was 'yes'.  Counseling had helped him immensely.  He'd made Mike promise first that the counselor would keep it all in confidence—social services had failed Lucas too many times, and he didn't trust the uncertainty of the state foster homes; he'd rather take his chances with his dad…or his mother's boyfriend.  He shuddered.  So, he had trusted Mike, and Mike's minister…and that had led to the best things in his life.  He'd gotten to know Mike and his family…that had changed his life.  In the minister's office, he'd let go of all of it—every event that he could remember from his childhood.  After weeks of counseling, he had felt…better…whole.  He still didn't know how much of that to attribute to the sessions or to Mike's family.  They had taken him in during the summer break at Stanford.  He had learned for the first time what a 'normal' family was like.  He smiled at the memory.

Lucas had calmed considerably, almost recovered from his first reaction when Kristen had used the words from his dream.  He had a slight tremor in his voice, but the trust shone from his eyes as he gazed from one to the other.  Nathan did not know what his next words cost him, but he did know that he would personally severely discipline any crewmember who betrayed this boy.

"I..I..only can do this once, and I'd like, if it is all right with you,"  He looked at them.  "I'd like to have the senior crew hear about all of…this..from me.  My…my.. father will be on board soon, and I want…I need to tell you about him…and about me."

Nathan nodded.  "I think that is an excellent idea."

"This…this will be…hard."

"I know, but we will help you all that we can—I need to schedule this, and arrange for the third shift to cover for them.  How about we meet in the wardroom in one hour?"

"O.K."  Lucas looked very afraid, but more settled.  Nathan patted the boy's knee and left to arrange everything.

Lucas sat on the bed.  Kristen placed her hand on the back of his head and stroked his fair hair.  It felt soft as it ran through and under her fingers.  He leaned toward her, and now, she felt the freedom to gather him into her arms.  He cried quietly; she could feel his shoulders shaking.  She cried too, thankful that he had forgiven her, wishing that she could spare him the pain she knew he would experience in the telling, but hoping…hoping that by talking about it all he could move past it…eventually banish it all from his dreams.  To heal.  Please, God…to heal.

The senior staff was present when Dr. Westphalen and Lucas walked into the wardroom.  Lucas had been terrified of this moment short hours ago.  But now…while no means relaxed…he was..calm.  They would hear it all and accept him, or…reject him.  He didn't know what would happen once his father came aboard, but Lucas knew that these people, especially, deserved to know about his relationship with his father.  They would hear it from Lucas directly.  He set his file on the table.

"Lucas, Dr. Westphalen, please sit down.  The agenda is yours, Lucas, and there is no schedule, so take all the time that you need—if you need a break, let me know.  We are present at your request to hear your account of your dreams, and what led you to be placed on seaQuest.  While we were waiting for the two of you to arrive, I took the liberty of letting everyone know that you had had another dream in Med Bay.  Miguel and Ben helped me to relay what happened accurately…"

Lucas looked at each of them for a long moment.  As he met their eyes, he wondered, when this was over, would he see pity, or disgust, or rejection in their eyes?  Or would he still see what he sees now—understanding, and friendship, and…love.

Ben smiled encouragingly at him.  Lucas gave him a small smile in return.  He loved Ben—if he'd had a choice in all of the world for a brother, he would have chosen Ben.  Ben loved him unconditionally…and Ben was…fun.

Tim met his eyes and nodded.  Lucas knew that Tim would pray for him, that God would help him through this.  Tim had a kind heart, and Lucas loved him for it.

Miguel grinned at him when Lucas met his eyes. Lucas remembered how Miguel had taught him to play poker, and he laughed at every game when Lucas cleaned them all out.  'He is still trying to get me to teach him how to count cards.' Lucas thought.  He loved Miguel.

Chief Crocker sent him strength in his steady gaze.  Lucas remembered his kindness to him from the first day.  When he arrived on the MR-7, the Chief had made sure that he knew his way around, taking the time to give him a tour and even to carry his bag to his cabin— although he was swamped that day with work.  He loved the Chief.  Commander Ford sat next to the Chief.  The Commander looked at Lucas and then lifted his chin.  Lucas almost laughed out loud.  It was their secret signal. 'The captain's right behind you' it said, 'watch it!'  It had taken awhile for him to get to know Jonathan, but his life was richer for it.  He loved him.

Lt. Commander Hitchcock smiled softly.  Oh, she was beautiful.  He admired her fierce dedication to perfection.  She was the best engineer he had ever worked with, and she had always treated him as an equal.  He loved Katie.

At the head of the table, Dr. Westphalen winked at him.  He had had wonderful dreams, so many times, that she was his mother.  Although she sometimes smothered him with advice and scolding, he secretly relished it, knowing that she only did so because she loved him.  How he loved Kristen.

He looked next to him, where Captain Bridger sat.  The Captain had his hand palm up on the table.  Lucas looked at him, puzzled….then understood.  If he needed it, the Captain would 'hold his hand' through this.  He'd give him the courage to see it through to the end.  Oh, he admired this man.  Respected him above all others, and deeply envied his dead son, Robert, for having Nathan Hale Bridger for a father.  He loved Nathan.

He looked down at the file that he had brought with him.  Inside was his medical life story.  He had hacked most of it from St. Mary's in Buffalo, but some parts had been given to him by Dr. Emil Harris.  During those three years when Dr. Harris visited the Wolenczak home often—the drunk years—Lawrence called them, Emil Harris had documented every injury he'd treated.  He had charged Lawrence exorbitant prices each time, and had lived well on the proceeds.  

Lucas had received the Doctor's file at his death, with a long, rambling letter of apology.  Emil Harris had hung himself in his basement when Lucas was eleven.  Lucas knew that Dr. Harris had suffered from depression.  He had tried to kill himself years before Lawrence even met him.  But Lucas still wished that he had told the man that he had ceased to hold him responsible for his part in hiding the abuse.  He had forgiven him years ago for his part in it.  Lucas took one last look around the table, at these people who had come to mean so much to him in the last four months.

He took a deep breath, and began.  "My… father will be coming on board tomorrow morning with Secy. General Noyce."  He paused.  "I know my…behavior of the last few days has caused you to believe that I am…abused by my father.  You need to know from me what really happened, and how and why I ended up on seaQuest….."  His hands were shaking.  He poured himself a glass of water, drank some, and then set it down.  "I..I have been having nightmares about something my father did to me when…I was much younger."  He swallowed.  "I was…seven the first time he took me to the carriage house.  He wanted to 'teach me a lesson'.  My dad is what is known as a 'mean drunk'.  Most of the time, he did not remember what he did while he was drunk.  The years between my sixth and ninth birthdays were filled with uncertainty…I..I..tried so hard to please him, and sometimes, there were good times.  But for those three years, Dad drank heavily.  When he was drunk, his…disappointment..in..me came out."

"Lucas,"  Kristen started.

He said softly.  "No…please…let me finish this—I've been dreaming about the well in the carriage house.  Dad…would…put me in there, and then put a garden hose over the rim..and…and turn it on.  The well took about nine hours to fill up to the top."

"Oh, Lucas."  Ben's eyes were horrified.  Katie put her arm around him—she was crying.

"I…I…had to _learn to survive_…to climb out---he would turn on the water and leave…it was so..c..c..cold."

Nathan took the boy's hand.  Lucas jerked slightly, startled.  Then he gave Nathan a crooked smile and continued, now with a stronger voice.  "One particular time, it was the second time my…dad..used this punishment, my dad had come home early.  He had just lost funding for his latest energy project, but I didn't know that until much later.  My mom was at a conference with a…colleague.. and when I came home from school.  Dad was already very drunk.  He met me at the door.  He…he..yelled..a lot; I didn't understand most of what he said, but as soon as I realized where he was taking me, I panicked.  He…he was infuriated at my resistance…and it got…ugly quick.  When he threw me in the well, my arm.."  He gestured to the bandage on his right arm.  "..was badly broken."  He closed his eyes for a moment, reliving it.  "I…I almost died that afternoon, and by the time I crawled over the rim of the well, it was pretty late at night.  I couldn't feel much of anything…I…was..so..so..c..cold.  I..lay beside the opening to the well.. and I guess I passed out.  When..when I woke up…there were rats c..chewing on my arm, around the..the protruding bone of my right arm---they _were eating me._"  He stopped again, trembling.  Nathan stood up and handed him the glass of water.

"Do you want to take a break?"

"No..no, you need to understand..how it was."  He couldn't meet anyone's eyes.  He was afraid that if he saw any disgust or rejection there, he wouldn't be able to finish this.  "My…father heard me screaming—he had sobered up a bit by then, and he came running.  When he came in the door, most of the r..r.ats scattered.  I..I..needed his help badly, but…I..t..t..tried to push him away—he stomped on the rats still around me.  Then…he..picked me up.  I was still fighting him…but then I s..s..saw that he was crying, crying about what he had seen, and how he had found me.  Later, after Dr. Harris had set my arm and cleaned up the b..bites, my..father…held me..on his lap.  He held me all night. Whenever I woke up in pain or screaming, he was there..he..he didn't remember putting me in the well…he hasn't remembered any of the times…he didn't remember it.  Don't you see?  He didn't…remember."

Lucas stared at the file folder.  He didn't look at any of them, even when they began speaking.

"Doctor..how ..is that possible?"  Jonathan questioned, his impassive expression belied by his tear filled eyes.  "Kristen..can it be that he really does..not..remember?"

Kristen cleared her throat, blinking back her own tears.  "It's…possible.  It depends on how much he drank.  His mind could black out, not record the memory, while he still remained conscious and functioning."

Lucas took another sip of water.  His hand shook so that he slopped it on the table when he tried to set it down.  "You…understand?  He still doesn't remember _any of it._  Oh he would get heavy handed when he drank, slap me sometimes, and once he pushed me up against the kitchen cabinets, but as soon as his temper would flare, it would extinguish, and then…he…he would cry…say he was sorry…that it would never happen again.  He'd promise me…never again."

"Lucas,"  Katie said softly, tentatively.  "What about your..your back?  That's not 'heavy handed' that's torture."

Lucas met her eyes, shock stiffening him. "My father would never…dad didn't do that.  My mother's…boyfriend did that."  He shuddered at the memory.  "When I was eight, Carl…beat me for the first time.  My dad was at rehab…a private clinic in Virginia.  Mom brought Carl to the house the second week dad was away.  My mom and dad were divorced last year, but previous to that—they just lived separate lives in the same house."

"Why not go ahead and divorce?"  This from Ben.

"Scandal, bad press—they both needed to be a part of a perfect family unit sometimes for social functions and fundraisers.  They were…discreet…about their other involvements.  I had never met Carl before that day, but my…mom had apparently been bragging about my computer skills, specifically my talent as a programmer and hacker.  Carl decided that I could set up an on-line casino for him…program the games to his advantage—to his heavy advantage.  Mom had introduced us and then been called in to work.  I thought Carl had left with her..until..he came into my room.  He was nice at first, explaining his plan several times.  He even offered to 'cut me in on a piece of his action'.  Those were the words he used.  I refused, and when he understood that I was serious, he …he took off his belt to punish me.  When I woke up he had tied my hands to my bedpost.  He did his best…to convince me.  He had cut off my shirt, and…when I still said no…he tore the cable off t..the printer..fr..from my desk…he..hit m..me…I..I.."

Nathan put his hand on Lucas' back and rubbed gently.  "You don't have to tell us all the details of this if it is too much for you."

"Th..thanks."  Lucas fought to get his voice under control.  He did not want to talk about Carl…

"Where..where was your mother?"  Kristen's ragged voice questioned.

"She ignored me mostly.  By the time she got home from work, it was late.  Carl had…finished his lesson, untied me, and put me under the covers.  He said he'd…k..kill me if I told anyone.  I believed him.  When mom came in to say good night, I pretended to be sleeping.  I spent the next week in bed; I didn't have to act much to convince her that I was ill.  And Carl was very solicitous.  He volunteered to take care of me during the day while my mom was at work.  That was extra incentive to get better, I guess.  By the time my dad came home, Carl was gone, and I was up walking around."

"Lucas…your father did not notice?  How..how could he not?"  Miguel looked sick and sad.

"Dad…couldn't be bothered to notice me, most of the time.  I've…been a disappointment…to him.  Over the years, I've come to realize that what he really wanted…was just an ordinary…intellectually average kid.  Not the genius freak doing calculus at three years old."

"LUCAS!!  You are not a freak."  Kristen scolded him.  "You are a wonderful, incredible person who…"

"..Who is not an ordinary boy.  I can never be what my dad really wants, a son he can mold and shape to follow in his footsteps, to continue his work…he wanted that, wants that more than anything."

Lucas' voice held steady, but he had tears tracing silver lines down his face.  "I can't be what he wants…and it hurts…him and me.  I love him…and I know that he loves me, but we just…hurt each other.  He only calls…contacts me…when he needs something.  I wish…I want it to be different, but I don't know how to make it better."

He rubbed the tears away with the heels of his hands.  "This file…it's my complete medical record, doctor…I…acquired most of it legally.  I know that you were trying to help me…and I appreciate it.  I have carefully considered taking my father to court, but I rejected that option years ago, shortly after I went through counseling at Stanford.  He didn't know…then..what Carl did, and he didn't remember my most…painful..moments with him.  So…I did what I could for me, for my own survival…I forgave him.  He is who he is.  He doesn't drink any more, and he hasn't for years.  He hasn't hit me since I was ten years old.  Most of the…damage you saw on the x-rays took place before my 9th birthday."

"Lucas, what about your back—you were bleeding when you came aboard—I saw it."  Crocker's thoughtful voice clashed with his strained expression, and Lucas wondered---was this harder for him to hear, or harder for me to say?

"My father had been away, out of the country.  He'd missed my graduation ceremony, but my mom came.  Unfortunately, Carl came with her—they paid me a visit at the..apartment I had at the time.  I hadn't realized that they were even at the ceremony, so when I answered the door, I was shocked.  I..hadn't seen my mom in fourteen months.  She and Carl came in and looked around.  I…I was polite, at first, but when they invited…me to dinner to celebrate, I refused.  I was rude at that point.  I had been on my way out the door to a party, and here they were…after all this time…I didn't want to spend any time with either one of them."

"Don't blame you there."  Ben muttered.  Katie shushed him.

"My…mom called me a few names and left for the car.  But Carl…stayed.  He started screaming, swearing…at me.  When he began smashing things, I picked up the phone to call the police, but he ripped the cord out of the wall.  He..tore.. the phone cord out of the vidlink and…started hitting me.  He was shouting…raging..hitting and kicking me.  I…don't remember what he…did to my back, I wasn't awake for it.  I don't remember much about that next few days.  But Mike told me later that my…dad found me.  He came to see the graduation, but got the times wrong.  He arrived at my apartment shortly after Carl left.  After I was discharged from the hospital, he…wanted me to file charges against mom and Carl—I refused. He wanted me to start to work for him at World Power, but I refused that as well.  I wanted to stay at Stanford…to stay with Mike and his…family.  To finish my PhD and take care of….things.  

Nathan wondered at Lucas' repeated hesitations.  It was like he was editing his account as he was saying it.  What was he leaving out of this story?

"Dad tried reasonable arguments:  he needed me at World Power, and it wouldn't hurt to delay my PhD.  I would also be able to continue my research in an underwater environment.  When those inducements didn't work, he threatened to pull my school funds, but I had other income.  And when he found out about that, he used his 'custody card'.  By this time, dad knew about…all the things…with Carl, and he'd had mom's custody rights revoked—she surrendered them without a fight.  I was a minor, in his care, and he couldn't care for me properly unless I went to World Power or he found someone else to care for me.  So, he gave me a choice—go to World Power, go to seaQuest, or go to a foster home.  He knew that I would choose to go with him to World Power.  He was furious with me when I chose seaQuest.  That was when he finally approached the UEO with the vocorder prototype.  Admiral Noyce agreed to accept me on the seaQuest as a member of the science team.  I was still…recovering...from Carl's attentions when dad dropped me off.  Dad was still so angry…he..he didn't even say goodbye."  Lucas glanced at Chief Crocker and Miguel as he remembered that first day.

"And that was four months ago."  He finished.

He stole a glance at Tim first.  Tim had his head down, but he looked up when the room fell silent.  Lucas saw grief, anger, sadness…and love?  Tim still cared for him?  One by one, Lucas met their eyes.  None refused to meet his.  Katie and Kristen were crying, but they both tried to smile at him.  

He said softly, "Don't cry…please…I..it's over, don't cry.  I..I'm glad I'm here, and …I don't want to leave…I want to stay…if you…still want me?"

His voice wavered brokenly as he said the last few words.  Nathan turned to him and gathered the boy into his arms.  "Yes..yes we want you here.  We…love you, Lucas.  Don't you know that?"

Lucas' head rested briefly against Nathan's chest, and he fiercely returned the hug.  "I…love you too, Captain.  I love you all."

"So," Ben said weakly.  "Now that we're not going to kill your…father, what are we going to do about keeping you on the seaQuest?"

Everyone gaped at Ben for a moment.  Miguel began laughing first, then it spread to Tim, Crocker…and even Jonathan smiled a little.

"What??"  Ben said.  And at that, Katie and Kristen joined in.  As the laughter trailed off, Ben gave Lucas a small smile.  He had released a lot of the tension in the room.  Lucas smiled back.  Ben was a lot more sensitive than most people gave him credit for being.

"We…are not going to do anything.  I have a plan.  Well, Mike and I have a plan."  Lucas said firmly.  "I..I need you to trust me.  I wanted to meet with my dad anyway.  He has been refusing my mail and my calls, so this face-to-face meeting has become necessary.  Right now, I need to call Mike and see if I can arrange things by tomorrow morning."

"Who, exactly, is Mike?"  Kristen asked.  "I know you have mentioned him several times, and he is the one who—thank God—got you into counseling.  But what does he have to do with this?  With keeping you here rather than going to World Power?"

He hesitated.  "I want to save most of this until Secretary General Noyce and my father are on board.  But..Mike was a third year law student when he and his family supervised my dorm.  Currently…Mike is my…lawyer."

The room fell silent.  Ben finally stammered.  "Your…lawyer?  You're too young to have a lawyer…"

Lucas laughed.  He couldn't help it.  Leave to Ben to say the perfect thing.  They all looked stunned, and he supposed he couldn't blame them for that.  Ben had used the perfect phrase.  'Too young.'  He'd been 'too young' his whole short life.  'Too young' to do the things he could do…'Too young' for high school…'too young' for college…way 'too young' for submarine duty---'too young' for the life he had waiting for him at Stanford if he ever got free of his father's control.  He needed to talk to Mike.

"Captain…may I go?  I have some calls to make."

He slid his file to Dr. Westphalen.  She just stared at him.

"Please…trust..me.  I…I want to stay on seaQuest, but I need to deal with my father in my own way.  He will be here in less than fourteen hours, and I have .."

"To what?"  Nathan spoke sharply.  "What is your plan?  I don't want to see you hurt ever again, and I know that you have said that your father is…rehabilitated…and you've forgiven him—but I don't trust him, and you will not be alone with him anywhere on seaQuest."

Lucas' eyes met Nathan's.  "It…it has helped me, probably more than I realize now, to have you all know my past…I trust you, and if you feel that strongly, I owe it to you to respect that.  I'll talk to my dad here, O.K.?  You can be here if you wish…"  He looked at everyone in the room, an open invitation.  "I..I just thought that I would have a better chance convincing him to let me stay if I spoke to him alone."

"Absolutely not."  Nathan's voice stopped the discussion.  

"I… O.K., Captain.  I'll do as you wish."  Lucas capitulated gracefully.  "Thank..thank you for arranging this meeting today, and thank you all for coming…for..for listening."  His blue eyes met each person's around the table once more.  He was crying, now, but he smiled slightly.  Then, with the Captain's nod of dismissal, he turned and left the wardroom.

Ben looked around wonderingly.  "He…he has a lawyer?"

Katie punched him on the arm.  "Come on Ben, guys..I'll buy you dinner."

To be continued

Next…Lawrence on Board


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Thank you again to all kind and constructive reviewers.  This chapter answers some of those pesky questions in previous ones, but has the worst cliffhanger ending.  Sorry about that; I'll try not to do that again.  Enjoy!

Too Young

Chapter Eight

Lawrence Comes on Board

"Nathan, I've been expecting your call."  Acting Secretary-General William Noyce studied his friend.  Nathan looked exhausted.

"Hello, Bill."

"Well—I can see by your face that it was bad.  Did Lucas talk to you?"

Nathan scrubbed his hands across his face.  "Bill, he's been through so much.  But according to him, Lawrence is not a danger anymore."

"He wants to go with us then, to World Power?"

"No, he was quite clear that he wanted to stay on seaQuest."

"But Lawrence…abused him?  Did the things that you described?"

"Yes…and no.  Lucas had a bad three-year period with Lawrence—when Dr. Wolenczak drank heavily.  But, as Lucas relates it, his dad is sober now, and hasn't hit him in years. It was Carl, Cynthia's boyfriend, that did all the damage to his back."  He looked sadly at Bill.  "I feel like a lot of this is my fault."

"What?   How so?"

"Lucas had gone through counseling, dealt with his past several years ago.  He'd come to terms with Lawrence and had ….forgiven him."

"If he's O.K., then what about these dreams?"

"Yes, the dreams started two weeks ago, Bill, right after the…"

"The summit….oh God."

"Exactly.  Bill, his father used to punish him by putting him in a well behind their home and slowly filling it with…water.."

"My lord…so the kidnapping brought that all back.."  
"Yes.  Bill, I never checked on him.  When we got back to seaQuest, he went right to work on that viral sweep of the mainframe—he'd been dodging that job for a while, so I was pleased with him.  He…disappeared from my radar screen for a while.  I just assumed that he was O.K.  Bill—he suffered through those nightmares alone for two weeks…I…I.."

"You are not perfect.  You did the proper things once you realized…what was going on.  You need to forgive yourself.  Does Lucas give any indication that he holds you responsible?"

"No…"

"Then, forgive yourself."

"All right, Bill, I'll try.  I called you to let you know that our ETA at Pearl is 0800.  And Lucas wants to see his father.  He says he and his lawyer have some kind of plan…"

"His lawyer…would that be Mike..Mike Norris?" 

"Yes.  You knew that he had a lawyer?"

"Well, yes.  We negotiated with Mr. Norris for the rights to the vocorder.  He and Lucas are working out a plan now to license it to the UEO for wider use on our submarine fleet.  I'm surprised that Lucas didn't let you know about this.."

"Why would a fifteen year old need a lawyer?"

"I can't speak for all the fifteen year olds, but your particular one is not an average specimen."  Bill smiled at his friend.  This was going to be fun…if Nathan didn't know that Lucas had a lawyer, he probably was unaware as to why he would need one. 

"I know that---it's just unusual."  Nathan looked perplexed.

"Nathan, most multi-billionaires need some sort of legal protection.."

"WHAT!?  _Bill!  Lucas gets paid $300 a week!  All his money goes into the trust Lawrence set up for him.  He never has any money for anything…"_

Bill laughed.  "Nathan, I'm probably revealing secrets I shouldn't have.  I'm sure Lucas had his reasons why he didn't tell you all this himself.  I know that there are things about Lucas' financial situation I don't know—but Lawrence and Mike set strict parameters for the use of the vocorder…and negotiated a hefty sum for its installation."

"How…hefty a sum?"  Nathan was flabbergasted.  The fifteen-year-old in grungy cargo pants and ancient jerseys was a …multi-billionaire?  What was he doing here?

"Actually, I don't know the exact amount paid for the vocorder, somewhere between three and five million--but that is a small part of his financial portfolio.  And a small part of what the UEO has paid Lucas over the past six years.  Nathan, Lucas didn't just start his programming breakthroughs when he arrived on seaQuest—or even as an eleven-year-old at Stanford.  My friend, he designed and wrote the software that runs your maglev and your air circulation systems.  Many of the top selling software packages and games have Lucas' name on them…"

"Wait…wait a minute, Bill.  I know the schematics of this vessel better than anyone, and I tested and approved the software you're referring to—Bill, I had never heard of Lucas Wolenczak until four months ago…"

"Ever hear of Dolphin Dreams?

"Yes….Of course…It's the largest R&D software company in the world.  They designed many…of..the…the systems for the seaQuest.  BILL!  Lucas cannot be Dolphin Dreams' CEO.  He's a kid!."

Bill grinned…this _was_ fun.  "Keep going, Nathan…what else do you know?"

Nathan glared at him.  "Dolphin Dreams has an enormous science foundation as well.  They granted hundreds of millions to us over the last five years to develop seaQuest and then to build her.  Dolphin Dreams is unique for its size of operating capital and its secrecy of ownership.  All the correspondence, grants and checks are issued from a law firm in San Francisco…I…I can't recall the name."

"I'm sure it will come to you if you take a moment…"  Bill positively smirked at him.

"Fine.  I have it written down, Bill.  It's on this grant application here on my desk.  It's Alberts, Victor, and…..Norris?  Norris….."  Nathan's eyes locked on Bill's.  "You're serious, aren't you?  You're telling me that my chief computer analyst, that Lucas…is Dolphin Dreams?"

"Yes.  He has never confirmed it, but let's just say that I let him know when Dr. Westphalen is very interested in a particular costly research project…or needs a non-essential piece of scientific equipment.  Dolphin Dreams issues a check to UEO within a few days…"

"Why…why would he keep this from me?  From us?"

"I don't know, Nathan.  His father controls the bulk of his fortune, of course.  Perhaps Lucas fears the news would get back to Lawrence."

"Or maybe I should just listen to what he said about 'wanting to be accepted for who he is, and not what he can do'.  Apparently, he wasn't just referring to his computer skills."

"Nathan, whatever the reason, Lucas would have told you if he felt free to do so—you must know how much he trusts you, admires you."  Bill smiled at him gently.  "I do need to call Lawrence, now.  I'll let him know when the seaQuest is scheduled to arrive.  He was not happy about the delay."

"Good."

"Captain…I know that you don't like him.  But right now, the UEO needs him—so play nice while he's on board…please."

"I will…as long as he does nothing to hurt Lucas, including trying to take him off seaQuest.  Lucas does not want to go, and I will fight to keep him here."

"I can support you within reason, but the law is on Lawrence's side in this.  I guess we'll have to wait and see what Lucas and Mike have planned.  See you in the morning."

"Good night, Bill."

Bill smiled at the blank vidlink screen, and then connected to Lawrence's hotel.  

"Yes."

"Lawrence.  It's Bill."

"What time?"

"0800.  I'll pick you up.  We'll have to take a shuttle over to her.  The seaQuest is too large for their open docks."

"Very well—and Bill?"

"Yes?"

"I trust that Nathan Bridger will not interfere with my taking Lucas…"

"I…don't know what Nathan will do.  Goodnight  Lawren…."

"…."

Bill stared at the vidlink.  The arrogant prick had hung up on him.  He smiled grimly.  'I think you may find, Doctor, that it's not Nathan that you need to be worried about—your son has other plans.'  Bill could hardly wait for the morning to come.  It would be an interesting one.

On the ride to the pier, Lawrence said nothing in response to Bill's repeated attempts at small talk.  The shuttle, MR-5, was waiting for them, and they loaded their equipment and baggage in silence.  Lawrence gave no indication that he was affected by the poisonous glances sent his way from their pilot, Lt. Benjamin Krieg.  Bill smiled to himself.  This was fun.

Lawrence spoke for the first time.  "Why are we still waiting?  Get underway—you pilot!  What are we waiting for?"

Bill wasn't aware that you could inject so much hate into the human voice.  Lt. Krieg was not good at hiding his loathing of Lucas' father.  "Doctor."  He sneered.  "We are waiting for Attorney Mike Norris."

Bill almost swallowed his tongue to keep from laughing aloud.  He tried to memorize the look on Lawrence's face, so he could relay it accurately, later, to Nathan—when they were alone.  Oh, this was shaping up to be quite a fun day.

"Wh..What…Why is Mike coming with us?"

"Lucas will tell you. I don't know."  Lt. Krieg said, dismissively, and then turned to check his control panels.

Lawrence fidgeted.  What was Lucas up to?  He would have to come with him eventually.  He was a minor.  But Mike—Mike was very protective of his son.  Mostly, he appreciated that, respected Mike for it…even envied him for his close relationship to Lucas.  But he was not anxious to have Mike as an adversary—and that looked to be the direction this was going.  What was Lucas up to?

His thoughts were interrupted when Mike himself came on board.  He sat down, nodded an acknowledgement to them, and motioned to the pilot that he was ready to leave. 

The ten-minute trip over to the seaQuest was absolutely silent.  Only Ben's voice was heard murmuring contact and docking instructions.

When they exited the launch, Lawrence felt profoundly uneasy.  There was the requisite honor guard to greet the Secretary General, and Lawrence paid attention to Bill's acknowledgements of the crew standing at attention.  He tried to put faces to the names contained in his son's emails.  He looked around for his son.  Lucas wasn't here….why wasn't he here?  Bill's introduction caught Lawrence's attention, and he turned toward the Secretary-General.

"Nathan, allow me to introduce Attorney Mike Norris and….Dr. Lawrence Wolenczak, you've met previously."

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Norris, Dr. Wolenczak."  Captain Bridger's greeting was perfunctory, almost rude. 'Oh no!…this man doesn't like me,' Lawrence's sarcastic thoughts showed on his face.  'Good.  The feeling's mutual.'  Then he said aloud.

"Captain, where is my son?  I was expecting Lucas to meet me here."

Before Nathan could reply, Mike spoke softly.  "Lawrence, Lucas is detained.  He said he'd meet us in the wardroom in a few minutes." Then he said in a louder voice.  "Captain, I need to speak to you privately for a moment."

Lawrence knew then that he'd lost control of this meeting.  Somehow, Lucas had outflanked him, and he and Mike had something planned.   Lawrence decided to play along….for now.  After all, he still held the trump card, didn't he?  Lucas was a minor, and he had sole custody. He watched Captain Bridger lead Mike in the opposite direction as he and Bill followed the honor guard on a brief tour of the ship.  As they walked toward the bridge, Lawrence remembered the last real conversation he'd had with Lucas, over four months ago.

He had sat next to his son's bed in intensive care, watching Lucas struggle to breathe, waiting for him to wake up.  Lucas' face and chest were badly bruised; he had a concussion and four broken ribs, one of which had punctured his right lung.  That had been repaired.  But the real horror was his back.  Lucas looked like someone had taken a flaying knife to him.  Lawrence watched the nurses clean and re bandage the mess earlier.  He'd been assured that the scars would fade in time, like the others—the others his wife's….consort had also put there.  Lawrence wanted to kill Carl.  He had told the police all he knew and much he suspected, but Lucas would have to confirm it for the charges to stick.  Everything was on hold until Lucas woke up.  But Lawrence hadn't waited for the police to act.  As soon as he knew that Lucas would recover, he had called Cynthia.  He knew that he could scare her, intimidate her into doing what he wanted.  And she had signed the custody papers that he had couriered to her.  The bitch didn't even ask if Lucas would be all right.  The phone call was a nasty one….he had told her to keep herself and Carl away from Lucas from now on, or he, Lawrence, promised to go after her personally.  Cynthia was sobbing by the end of the conversation, but he didn't care.  What had he ever seen in her?  She was lovely, but it was all surface.  She didn't care about anything unless it benefited her.

Lucas moaned, and his eyelids opened slightly.  Lawrence took his hand.

"Lucas, son…I'm here.  You're going to be all right….dad's here."

"…Where's here?"  Lucas' voice was hoarse.

"You are at Mercy Hospital, in San Francisco."

"What…happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"I…don't remember…how I got here."

The doctor had warned them that Lucas might have some memory loss due to the severity and location of the concussion.  Lawrence tried another approach.

"What..is the last thing that you remember?"

"I…I was getting some things to take over to Mike and Anne's house.  Jenny and Ryan had already left with him, and…and…that's all."  His eyes, confused and bloodshot, met Lawrence's.  "Dad…what are you doing here?  You said that you…"

"I cut out of my Australian meeting early.  I wanted to see you honored.  Your speech was excellent, by the way.  The highest GPA in Stanford's history….impressive, son."

Lucas grinned at him, then winced as the movement pulled at his bruised skin.  "Dad…what time is it?"

"7:30 a.m., Sunday, the 23rd."

"What!?"  Lucas tried to sit up, but fell back with a small cry.  He was panting heavily and his eyes squeezed closed as he fought with the pain.  "Wh..What happened, Dad?  Why have I lost two days?  Oh, God!  Are Jenny and Ryan O.K.?  Where are they?"  His anxious face turned from side to side as if searching for them.

Lawrence placed a calming hand on Lucas' arm.  "Jenny and…Ryan are fine.  Jenny was here all night.  Mike and Anne took her home to rest.  You were…severely beaten…I found you on your kitchen floor.  Your apartment looked like a tornado hit it, but I don't think anything was taken.  Do you want me to call for the nurse?  Do you need something?"

Lucas shook his head and closed his eyes again.  He hurt, but the pain was….manageable.  He hated lying to his father.  He remembered very well how he'd ended up here, but he would never admit it—to Lawrence or to the police.  He could forgive his mother for her choices in men, and he would.  He was forever grateful to her for signing the papers allowing him to marry Jenny.  She had even come to San Francisco for the wedding—without Carl.

Lucas opened his eyes and studied his father.  "Dad….I…know that you didn't…want me to marry Jenny, you've…ignored the fact that I am married…but…"

Lawrence interrupted, exasperated.  "Lucas, it should be illegal to marry at thirteen—I still cannot believe that, as smart as you are, you were stupid enough to…"

"To marry someone I love?  Someone who loves me?  Needs me?  Dad—the marriage is legal.  Mom signed her permission, and Mike and Anne did the same for Jenny.  I….I…would have waited a long time for her, but we don't…have..a guarantee..that…that…"

Lawrence squeezed his hand.  He hadn't intended on upsetting Lucas…but his mouth had run ahead of his brain.  He ignored the tears Lucas was wiping away with the back of his free hand.  He patted Lucas' arm, and then said, more gently.  "You…may..be right.  I…I..don't want to see you hurt when Jenny…"

"Dad.  Don't."  Lucas' eyes were haunted.  He did not want to think about Jenny's cancer, nor discuss it with his father, so he changed the subject.  "Have you seen Ryan?"

"Yes.  He looks just like you did when you were eleven months, but I think that he's smarter than you were.  He's already reading."

"Yeah.  Some Dr. Seuss."  Lucas' face lit with pride and love.  "Jenny thinks that she can understand most of what he says, but his palate is not developed enough for him to enunciate carefully."  Lucas shifted painfully, worn out by the conversation.

Lawrence noticed his weariness.  "You need to sleep for awhile.  I'll go call Mike and let him know that you are awake and talking—and the police wanted to be notified as well."

Mike and Anne were relieved to hear that Lucas was conscious, and they promised to tell Jenny as soon as she awakened.  But the rest of the conversations that week had not gone as planned.  The Norris's had pushed Lawrence hard to allow Lucas to stay with them until he'd recuperated fully, but Lawrence refused.  He was angry and hurt—his son had refused to go to World Power with him, had chosen seaQuest over him.  Lawrence just wanted to get Lucas to seaQuest as fast as possible, since that was his preference…

Lawrence looked up as the honor guard led the way into the wardroom.  These were the people that Lucas had lived and worked with daily for 4 months.  They studied him as he looked at each one of them.  They didn't like him much, did they?  He could feel it, their dislike in the air around him.  He sighed and sat down heavily.  Lucas wasn't here yet.  He hoped that this conversation went better than his last words with his son.  He was sure that Lucas would choose World Power over seaQuest—foster care was thrown in more as a threat than a serious option.  But Lucas had surprised him that day.  And he'd punished his injured son with his silence.  Lucas had tried to talk to him, to reason with him.  He wanted to stay with Jenny and Ryan, to go on with the life he was building in San Francisco, and finish his PhD at Stanford.  Lawrence refused to discuss it, and Mike couldn't talk Lucas into taking his father to court.  Lawrence was grateful that Lucas had not agreed to Mike's proposal.   In court, he probably could have forced Lucas to go to World Power, but the publicity would have been devastating.  Realistically, he knew that Lucas was protecting Jenny and Ryan more than his father, but he was grateful nevertheless.  When Lucas finally stated that he would go to World Power if Jenny and Ryan came too, Lawrence stormed out to call Admiral Noyce.  He would be embarrassed to have his son's underage wife and rug rat at World Power.  It was out of the question.  But, now, he wondered.  Was it so outrageous?  His son would have been with him, rather than cut off from them all, here on seaQuest.  

He watched his son enter and sit across from him.  Lucas was flanked by Mike and Captain Bridger.  Lawrence suddenly realized—I've lost him.  I've lost him.  He's gone for good.  It really…doesn't matter that I can control him for another few months, I've lost him.  I lost him the day that I dropped him off here four months ago.  Lucas' eyes caught his, and Lawrence joined the non-verbal battle of wills for a moment…then looked down.

His son hadn't been sleeping.  He noted the dark circles under his eyes.  But what made his eyes drop was the look of determination in his son's blue eyes.  He had lost this battle before it had begun.  The seaQuest would take him to World Power, drop him and Secy. General Noyce off, but his son would stay here.

Lawrence looked up again, but this time he showed what he was thinking to his son.

Lucas' eyes widened.  His father looked…defeated.  So sad.  He opened his mouth, but Lawrence beat him to it.

"Lucas…I see you have made your decision to stay.  I won't fight that.  I need your help at World Power, but.."

Lucas eyes were bright with happiness.  "Dad…I can help you from here."

"But here is not where you are needed the most.."

Captain Bridger had heard enough.  "Of all the selfish statements.."

"No!"  Lucas snapped.  Nathan looked at him, surprised.  "Sorry, Captain, but let him finish…please"

Lawrence was….proud of his son.  He let that show in his eyes as well, and Lucas began to blink back tears.  "…You are needed most at home, son.  At your home.  Captain, my son needs to leave seaQuest for a while."

"No.  He has told us repeatedly that he wishes to stay, that he does not want to leave.  Why must he go?  You are not forcing him to World Power; you just said that you would not fight his staying here…"

"He stays only if Jenny and Ryan can stay here with him.  I see now that I have profoundly hurt my son when I wanted to help him.  By my short sightedness, I separated him from his wife and son…and they need him too…"

Lawrence stopped abruptly, shocked by the identical expressions circling the table.  With the exception of Lucas and himself, you could catch a lot of flies in this room with all these open mouths.  Lawrence stared at his son.

"You…you didn't tell them?  I…I.."

Even though Lawrence was still talking, Lucas now had all eyes on him.  He was silent for a long minute while he met their eyes, and then he began to speak.  "I…I met Jenny at Stanford…"

--to be continued.

Next:  Lucas and Jenny


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Thanks to those sticking with me on this.  The story of Lucas and Jenny's past will take a few chapters.  I should get more posted by Friday night.

Too Young

Chapter Nine

Lucas and Jenny

"I met Jenny at Stanford."  Lucas repeated in a stronger voice.

"Wait…wait."  Kristen was the first to find her voice.  "What…did your…father just say?  You are married?  You have a child?  Lucas _you are a child.  You are too young to be married…much less to be a father."_

The others' heads swiveled between the two of them as if the owners were watching a tennis match.  "Doctor Westphalen, I…I  am too young, but it did happen, and I am not sorry about any of it…But, I am sorry for the way you all found out…I didn't want that to happen this way…"

Kristen was still upset. "Lucas, precisely when were you going to let us know this trifling point _about your past?_  I am shocked that you would be so irresponsible as to…"

"Watch it, Doctor."  Mike warned, glaring at her. "I know Lucas, and if there is one thing he is not, it is irresponsible.  You need to listen first and judge later."

Insulted, Kristen opened her mouth, but Lucas spoke first.  "Now that you know about Jenny and Ryan…I'd like to tell you the whole story."  He snuck a glance at his father, and Lawrence nodded encouragement to him.  Even he hadn't heard some of this; he had cut himself off from his son and Jenny, and he…regretted that choice now.  He wanted to hear his son's memories.

Everyone settled back in their chairs and looked expectantly at Lucas.  The boy was blushing, but he met their eyes before he began again.  "I met Jenny at Stanford…."

Eleven year old Lucas Wolenczak raised his fist to knock.  Before his knuckles touched the wood, the door opened suddenly, and he felt his jaw drop slightly.  She…she was lovely.  

"Hello. Who may I say is calling?"

"..uh…um.."

She smiled.  She had a dimple in her right cheek and a spray of freckles across her tanned nose.  Her green eyes looked like the ocean at sunrise, and her hair—wow….it fell to her waist in red gold curls.  Lucas wondered how old she was.

She tried again.  "Can I help you?"

"Oh…sorry.  I'm looking for Mike Norris?  Am I in the right place?"

Her smile brightened.  He was dazzled.  "He's my uncle.  Hi.  My name's Jenny—Jenny McCallum.

"Lucas Wolenczak.  I'm…I'm supposed to be rooming here—at this dorm house—am I in the right place?

"Yes, my uncle's been expecting you.  Come on in."

Lucas followed her inside the Victorian.  To their left was a flight of stairs winding upward.  But she motioned him to accompany her through the double doors to the right, into a large sitting room.  She turned back toward him.

"I'll go get Uncle Mike.  You can have a seat."

"My stuff.."

"..will be fine on the porch for now.  Have a seat."

She turned to go—then stopped and faced him.  "Hey kid…"

Lucas winced.

"How old are you?"

"I'm eleven…and it's Lucas."

"Oh.  You look younger.  Sorry, Lucas."

She whirled, her hair swirling behind her like liquid sunlight.  She spoke over her shoulder.  "I'm thirteen.  See you later, Lucas."

He sat down and sighed.  'Way to make a good first impression, Lucas.  You are such a geek.'  Well, she was too old for him, anyway.

After a few minutes, he got up to look around the room.  It had hard wood floors, and there were area rugs scattered about.  There was a fireplace at one end, and in front of it, two large couches faced each other over a coffee table strewn with magazines.  Behind one couch was a stand up grand piano, and behind the other couch was a large table with game boxes piled in the center.  Lucas walked over to the piano and studied the collection of photos on top.  He recognized a younger Jenny in one.  She was flanked by a man and woman who looked to be in their thirties—her mom and dad?

He heard steps on the stairs and turned back toward the double doors.

"Hi….Lucas?"  A tall, dark-haired man came in.

"Yes."  Lucas walked over and met him half way, putting out his hand.

"I'm Mike, Mike Norris. Nice to meet you, Lucas.  I'll show you to your room."

"Uh..O.K.,  I need to get my stuff—I left what wasn't shipped on your front.."

"Porch.  I know.  Jenny told me.  Look, my wife, Anne, and I supervise this dorm house.  We live on the first floor, back there."  He gestured vaguely behind him.   "Besides you, there are seven other minors living here for this school year.  But…you are the youngest by a few years." 

Mike studied the boy standing before him.  He was slight, only a little over five feet.  He had clear blue eyes and streaky, shaggy blond hair.  He looked so young.  Too young to be here, and way too young to be here alone.  Then the boy smiled, and Mike's eyes widened.  The kid was….beautiful.  Well, boys weren't beautiful, but this little guy would break some hearts in a few years.  Lucas' smile lit up his eyes, somehow.  He felt the first faint stirrings of alarm.  This kid wasn't that much younger than Jenny.  And Jenny was blushing when she told him that Lucas had arrived.  No wonder she wouldn't come back out with him.  Well, he'd send Anne in later to talk with her—reinforce the strict policy that the boy's floor was off limits to her.  And this kid better mind his manners.

Lucas followed the man up two flights of stairs, listening to the house rules along the way.  

"Your roommate will be here tomorrow before the Dean's orientation.  His name is Viktor Monsovian, and he's from Moscow.  Victor is fifteen and is in the Engineering Department.  Down the hall from you two are the other guys in the house:  Mark Banks and Tyler Andrews, both sixteen and both Pre-Med.  All of you will share the bathroom across the hall.  Mark and Tyler are arriving tomorrow, too.  In fact, you are the only one here now besides Jenny, Anne and me.  Breakfasts and dinners are together in the dining room; the times are posted in your room.  Anne and I cook the meals— you dorm residents will take turns cleaning up afterward.  The parents want to make sure that you get two decent meals a day."  He laughed.  

Lucas laughed with him, but thought. 'I doubt my parents care.'

Mike continued.  "I'm a third year law student."  He glanced at Lucas, then added.  "Yeah…I'm a little old."

"I….didn't say anything.."

"I know, Lucas.  In case no one has ever told you before now, most of what you are thinking shows in your eyes.  I caught your surprise."

"Lots of people go to school later."

"That's true.  I guess I'm one of those.  I worked for my father for years and went to school at night.  Then my wife's sister and her husband were killed in an accident, and we 'inherited' Jenny—she's my wife's niece.  Jenny has been with Anne and me for a year now, and she's in the Physics Department—you may have some classes with her."

"Jenny—is enrolled here?"

"Yes, she was accepted right before her parents died."

"Oh."  Lucas looked at Mike.  He didn't really know him, but he was telling him some pretty..personal..stuff.  Lucas wasn't sure how to respond.

Mike noticed his uneasiness.  "I know—I talk too much sometimes.  But you're easy to talk to, Lucas.  I transferred here from a night school law program at San Francisco State.  Anne and I wanted to respect Jenny's parents' wishes and let Jenny come here to school, but we didn't want her to come alone…so soon after losing her parents.  I still think that one of the reasons I was accepted at Stanford was that they wanted Jenny to attend here—recruited her heavily, you know."

Lucas hadn't known.  But he recognized the pride in Mike's voice.  Jenny's parents may have been killed, but she was lucky.  She still had at least one person who loved her, who thought she was great, who sacrificed for her happiness.

Mike laughed, breaking into his thoughts.  "Maybe they saw Jenny and me as a package deal, or maybe it was the fact that Anne and I agreed to run this dorm…Stanford's experiment to make parents feel better about leaving their kids here…"  He paused and looked down at the boy's suitcase.  "Lucas, I didn't see your parents downstairs.   Will they be back soon?  I need them to sign a medical release form and a temporary guardianship form."  

His voice trailed off as he looked back at the child following him.  Lucas was looking down at his shoes, but Mike could see the blush rising, pinking his ears. 'Uh, Oh, I think I hit a nerve.'  Mike thought.

Lucas shifted his feet.  "No.  I…I have a letter from my father giving permission for necessary care…and I have some….numbers that you can try if you need to contact them."  Lucas glanced quickly up at Mike, then looked away.  But it was long enough for Mike to see the pain in the boy's eyes. 

'Oh, crap.  Did his parents just leave him here?  Leave him like a parcel left on the porch by the mail carrier?  Just took off without even meeting the people he was staying with?'  Mike sighed. Poor kid.  

Mike opened the door to Lucas' room.  "Here you go."

Lucas looked around.  It was…nice.  A big room, two beds, two desks, two closets and a large double hung window with lace curtains.  He knew which bed was his by the packages stacked on it.  He recognized the shipping labels.  

Mike set down the suitcase he was carrying.  "If you need anything, or have any questions, I'm right downstairs.  We'll see you at dinner in two hours."

Lucas nodded his thanks and Mike left, shutting the door.  

Lucas sat at the desk. 'Well, I'm here.  I made it.  Only two long flights, one cab ride, and I'm at my new…home.'  He sighed wearily and then began to unpack.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  

Too Young

Chapter Ten

Lucas and Jenny

When Lucas didn't show up at dinner, both Mike and Anne went upstairs.  Mike went to reinforce the expectation—breakfast and dinner attendance were mandatory house rules.  Anne went because…she was curious.  Jenny had talked her ear off this afternoon.  Anne didn't think it was possible to have three hours of conversation fodder from a five-minute meeting, but Jenny had managed it.  She was smitten with this boy.  'Oh dear…neither she or Mike were ready for Jenny to experience her first romance..'  

Mike knocked.  When there was no answer, he turned the knob and led the way in.  "Lucas…ssssh…"  The boy's name turned in to a silencing sound as Anne started talking from behind him.

"…what.."  She whispered.  He moved out of her way.  Lucas' things had been put away, boxes stacked neatly in the bottom of his closet.  His computer was hooked up and running—a complex algorithm spooling itself across the screen.  The boy lay on his back, his cheeks flushed.  He was sound asleep.

"Mike…"  Anne whispered.  "How old is he?  He…he's just a little kid!  What were his parents _thinking_--sending him here alone…"  She stopped abruptly when Lucas turned over, his eyes fluttering open.  He yawned, rubbing the sleep away, and then turned red when he saw that he had company.

"I…I..didn't mean to be late—am I late?  His wide blue eyes looked between the two of them.  He looked…frightened.

Anne spoke up.  "We did come up to get you.  I'm Anne, and you're…"

"Lucas Wolenczak."  He got up quickly and took her proffered hand.  "Pleased to meet you.  Sorry I fell asleep.  I guess the time change got to me…"  His smile was infectious. 'Oh, Jenny, no wonder.'  Anne thought, and then said, "Are you hungry?  I made lasagna."

"Sounds good.  Let me wash up and I'll be right down."

Anne raised her eyebrows at Mike on the way back downstairs.  She laughed softly.  "…'let me wash up'…?  Mike, he has better manners than you do."

"I have perfect manners, dear."  He said snootily.  Then he leaned toward her and belched the words 'I love you' in her ear.

"Oh, gross!"  But Anne laughed harder and slapped at his arm as they went into the kitchen to plate up the meal.

After dinner, Lucas washed the dishes while Jenny dried.  They were silent for a while, then Jenny spoke hesitantly.  "Uncle Mike said that you're a double major?  Physics and Computers?"

"Yes—I'm very interested in engineering as well, so I'm fitting classes in when I can."

"Oh.  You've got a heavy math load.  How many units are you taking this semester?"

"24.  You?"

"24!  You're going to be gone from morning to night every day!  I only have 20."

"That's still a lot.  I have a Saturday lab at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Center too."

"How did you get that?  The UEO Department of Energy runs that….wait….Wolenczak…your dad—he's Lawrence Wolenczak!  No wonder…wow, that's great!"

He smiled at her excitement.  It would be incredible to be in the SLAC.  However, he doubted that he'd do much beside observe and take notes for quite a while.  His dad had the pull to get him in, but he'd have to earn the right to work in the facility.  He had some ideas about marine environment remediation he'd like to test there.

"Hey—where'd you go?  You were a million miles away."  She grinned at him.  She was so…beautiful.  His stomach lurched a little.  'Get a grip, Lucas' he admonished himself.

"Sorry, Jenny.  Just thinking."

"There's plenty of time for deep thoughts when classes start—what do you say to popcorn and scrabble with us?"  She smiled at him as he handed her the last dish.

"Why not?"  He hung the dishtowel over the rack and followed her out into the main room.

For that evening and many others afterward, Lucas was welcomed into Mike, Anne, and Jenny's family activities.  From time to time, the other student residents joined them, but Lucas was the only regular for after dinner talk and scrabble.  Mike and Anne often invited him in for a movie, or to play some of the other antique board games in the sitting room.  Inevitably, Lucas compared their family with his own, and his was found wanting.  He fully recognized now what 'family' meant—people caring for and loving each other unconditionally.  He'd never experienced anything like it…and didn't know how he'd lived so long without it.

That first day of classes, he and Jenny discovered that they were in the same labs for two hours each week.  They would often meet on the commons to talk or to compare lecture notes.  Being with Jenny was so easy now.  He knew her moods, and for the most part, adapted himself to her.  She could be very confusing though.  Sometimes, she treated him like a little brother, trying to boss him around the dorm house and picking silly fights with him.  Other times, like today, she would act how he imagined a best friend would behave—seeking him out to confide in…and being a sympathetic listener when he shared his frustration about failed experiments at the SLAC.  She was fast becoming the most important person in his life, but he had no idea how she felt about him…it was puzzling.

In another month, he would be twelve.  He idly wondered if his father or mother would remember his birthday, and if they did, would they send him anything?  He doubted it.  He shrugged off the thought.  He was supposed to meet Jenny in a few minutes.  Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he took the stairs up the Hoover tower two at a time.  Jenny was saving a spot for them; she had arrived earlier.  The walkway at the top was 285 feet above the campus, and the view was incredible.  He arrived at the top, puffing a little.  Jenny was waiting in their usual spot.  She smiled as he approached.

"Lucas!  Did you bring lunch?"

"Yes.  Right here…and chocolate cake for dessert."  He smiled shyly at her, knowing it was her favorite.

"Yum…well, sit down already…Aren't you starving?"

He realized then that he had just been standing and staring at her.  She grinned and winked at him.  Startled, he laughed—then settled himself beside her.

They ate their picnic in a companionable silence, comfortable with each other.  When they started on the cake, Jenny spoke up.

"Lucas, the dorm closes for Thanksgiving break next week.  Where are you going?"  She was curious.  All the other residents had been discussing their plans over dinner for the past two weeks, looking forward to the four-day break from school.  In all those conversations, he had said nothing.  She waited a moment, but when he didn't speak, she began talking about her family's trip to Tahoe to ski.  She, Mike, and Anne were renting a cabin there, and would be gone for the full break.  

As soon as she paused, Lucas said, "Sounds like fun.  My mom is coming to get me."

"Oh…I hope that I can meet her.  I've never met either of your parents…"  It dawned on her that Lucas never spoke about his family.  "Lucas, you never talk about your parents—what are they like?"

He didn't want to answer…didn't want to think about either one of them, but he knew that Jenny's curiosity was not to be trifled with…so he told some selective truths.  "My…parents are still married, but separated.  Mom lives in San Diego, and Dad's home is in Buffalo—but right now, he's at World Power." 

She smiled at him and wiped chocolate from the side of his mouth with her finger.  Then, she stuck her finger up to his lips for him to…lick it off?  He felt the blush flaming his ears.  She giggled, then stuck the finger in her own mouth, sucking the chocolate off.  He loved watching her, loved it when she touched his hand, his arm, his face.  He didn't know why his body reacted the way it did to her touch, it seemed like his face was always beet red with embarrassment or his hands were shaking, and when he was around her, he dropped things like a clumsy oaf.  But he definitely wanted to be around her.

She smiled softly at him.  "So, your mom's coming next Tuesday.  I bet you're looking forward to seeing her.  How long has it been?" 

"A year or so.."  At her shocked look, he quickly added.  "I…I can talk to her anytime I want, but I live across the country from her…well, I did before coming here to school."

"Lucas…"  Her voice was soft.  "I…I can't imagine going that long without seeing my…my Aunt and Uncle."  Her voice cracked a little at the end, and Lucas leaned over to give her a gentle hug.  The movement brought home to him the fact that he had grown three inches since school started.  Now, he was taller than Jenny. 

He wasn't fooled by her substitution of 'Aunt and Uncle'.  She meant…mom and dad—and it had been way longer than a year since she'd seen Mary and Ryan McCallum, her parents.  Lucas patted her arm awkwardly.  He wished that he had the words to comfort her, to take away the sadness.

She wiped her eyes, looking up at him through tear-laden lashes.  He wiped away a tear that had made its way to her chin, and she captured his hand as he did so, and squeezed it, smiling tremulously.  She sat back then, making an effort to shake off her sorrow.

"What..what time will your mom be here?  What time are you.."

"Leaving?  About 7:00 a.m.  My mom's…driver will be by about then—I don't think that she'll come here.  She will probably just wait for me at home."  Lucas didn't want to think about leaving…so he changed the subject.

"Did you understand that five variable equation and graph?"  Jenny blinked, startled; then she smiled at him, accepting the shift in conversation.

"Yes.  You just have to set up the problem this way…"  And with that, they moved to less emotionally shaky territory.  They talked and laughed about classes and professors until it was time to go.

That night, while Lucas listened to Viktor snore, he thought about his mom…and..Carl…and  Tuesday—and the four days he'd live through with them before he could come back….home?  The word surprised him, but it felt…right.  No, it felt..perfect.  This place was home.  Here, with Mike and Anne and Jenny…this was home now.  He smiled sleepily, closed his eyes, relaxing, his breathing deepening as he fell asleep.

On Tuesday, Lucas was packed and ready by 6:00 a.m.  He left a note pinned to the kitchen message board for Mike and Anne and went quietly out the front door to wait on the porch.

Carl was sitting on the steps.  "You kept me waiting."  He snapped, frowning.

"Mom said 7:00.  Sorry."  'Great.  One minute into vacation, and he's already mad.' But Lucas kept his expression carefully neutral, not allowing this thought to show.

"Come on, then.  Let's go."  Carl opened the trunk, and Lucas threw his duffle inside.

They climbed in the car and drove toward San Diego.  Carl kept the radio blasting to avoid conversation, which was fine with Lucas.  He didn't want to see Carl, let alone talk to him.  'Only three days and 23 hours to go.'  He thought gloomily.

Three and a half days later, Carl pulled his BMW back into the dorm driveway.  He was so sick of this kid.  Everything about him was annoying, infuriating.  Carl didn't hate too many people, but he hated this kid, this smart-mouthed, obnoxious brat of Cynthia's.  At least she could have driven him back, but, again, he was stuck transporting the little creep.  He was not this abomination's chauffer.  Lucas was a freak, an aberration of nature, so smart that he made Carl feel stupid, and Carl was brilliant.  He could see in the kid's eyes how superior he thought he was.  It made Carl want to slap the crap right out of him.  But Cyn had warned him, 'no marks anyone can see, nothing on the face, nothing that would bleed'.  He glanced angrily over at Lucas.  The boy sat, unnaturally still, waiting for Carl's permission to get out of the car.  His downcast eyes were heavily shadowed.  Carl could tell that he hadn't slept much.  He certainly hadn't eaten much, whining to his mom about how his stomach hurt.  Sure, Carl had hit him a there a few times, but not as often or as hard as he want to—the little bastard was just a baby.  Carl lifted his hand and felt a rush of power when Lucas flinched away.  'Good!' He thought viciously.  'Good.  He's afraid of me.'  

"Get out.  I want to get back to San Diego…and—you find somewhere else to go at Christmas.  We don't want you back, understand?"

Lucas nodded and opened the door.  He slid out, trying to stand straight.  His stomach twisted.  It felt like he'd been eating razor blades or knives.  Carl had hit him several times every day in the same place.  It was agony just to stand.  He hadn't been able to sleep or to eat.  Every time he tried to choke something down, it came right back up, and he thought some of it was bloody.  He knew that he had blood in his urine…but that was going away.  It was lighter today, anyway…and it didn't burn so bad…when he went to the bathroom.

He watched, his eyes dull, as Carl pulled away, and then bent to hoist his bag.  Without any warning, he vomited, falling to his knees.  It smelled disgusting, and he gagged at the odor, retching again, but not bringing anything up this time—it was just dry heaves now.  But every movement tore at his bruised abdomen, and even on his hands and knees, he swayed dizzily.  His vision shadowed at the edges and then narrowed to pinpoints of light.  Dimly, he heard Anne calling to him from the porch.  He struggled to his feet.  He was so tired.

Anne heard the car pull away.  Casually, she looked out the front window, and then froze.  After a long minute, she ran for the front door, yelling for Mike.  Lucas was slumped on the ground, vomiting.  She swallowed, convulsively, wanting to be sick herself. 

"What is it…Anne?"  Mike was concerned as he watched Anne fumble with the front door. 

"Mike!  Come on!  Someone just dropped Lucas off and he's on the ground out there throwing up!"

"What..?"

Mike pulled open the door and rushed after Anne.  She was already calling to Lucas.  The boy had made it to his feet, but he looked like a ghost, looked ready to fall flat at any moment.  Mike outdistanced Anne and got to his side first.  Lucas' knees buckled and Mike barely got a hold of him in time to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Hey—you sick?  Dumb question…of course you're sick."

Lucas nodded and tried to pull away, but he couldn't seem to stand straight.  He was shaking.

"Mike, get him in the house.  He's shivering."

Anne picked up his duffle and scuffed dirt over the vomit.  It looked like he had been eating licorice or…strawberries?  But it smelled horrible.  

Mike tried to guide Lucas to the house, but the kid couldn't seem to get his feet going right.  After a few steps, Mike swung him into his arms.  He felt like he weighed nothing—had he been eating?  Had he been sick the whole vacation?  Poor kid.  He looked down at Lucas.  The kid was talking, but his voice was so soft that Mike had a hard time hearing him.

"…Mike…put me down…I'm..I'm all right."

"Sure you are."   Mike smiled down at him, but he wanted to scream.  Why had they just dumped him off?  He had obviously been sick for a while.  Didn't they care about him?  Mike knew that he was starting to love Lucas.  He was easy to love, and he was hungry for it.  Anne said that she'd never seen anyone so grateful just to be noticed and included.  She had begun a night-time ritual of hugging him goodnight, and Mike knew Lucas appreciated it, for he sought her out every night just before bed time.  As Mike carried Lucas toward the house, he thought about the first time Anne had hugged this kid.

About three weeks into the school year, Anne, Jenny, and two other dorm students got a severe case of the flu.  Mike tried his best to take care of everyone—and did a good job—but some things didn't get done.  The house was a mess and the laundry piled up, filling the utility room with dirty linens.  Mike and a mostly recovered Anne had taken Jenny and Viktor to the campus infirmary for anti-nausea injections.  They had waited six hours to be seen; it seemed like half the student body was ill.

When they got back to the house, tired and cranky, they walked in the front door and they were met with a wonderful aroma.  Mike sent Jenny and Viktor to their rooms to rest, and then he and Anne followed their noses to the kitchen.  As they entered, Anne gasped.  The kitchen was clean.  Dishes were washed and put away, sinks and counters were scrubbed..even the stove top was clean.  A casserole sat on the counter and there was soup bubbling on the stove.  

"What on earth….?  Where did this come from?"  Anne went to the stove and tasted the soup.  "This is delicious, Mike.  How sweet you are—when did you have the time?"

"I…I didn't do this, Anne."  He looked confused.

They both turned when Lucas came through the doorway, face hidden behind a huge stack of folded sheets and towels.  When Mike spoke, he jumped, almost dropping the load of clean laundry.  Mike steadied the stack, and then took it from the boy's arms, freeing him.

"Lucas!  Did you….you didn't!  This looks great and smells better—you must have worked all day."

Mike had walked behind Anne to set the laundry on the kitchen table.  He looked back in time to see Anne give Lucas a big hug.

Mike watched Lucas' face transform, his feelings visible in his eyes and on his face as he was enfolded in Anne's arms.  He looked startled…shy—then blissfully happy as Anne held him for a long moment talking softly to him.  Mike had blinked back tears.  Lucas acted like no one had ever hugged him before.  What was it with this kid?

He shook his head at the memory as Anne, holding the front door, motioned him inside.

"Put him down on the couch, Mike."  Anne hurried to the bathroom to get the thermometer and a wet towel.  She was back by the time Mike had laid the boy down on the sitting room sofa.  He slipped off Lucas' shoes and gently held him down when the boy tried to sit up.

"Lucas, Anne just wants to take care of you, just take it easy.  How long have you been ill?"  Mike was worried.  Lucas had been pale outside, now he looked almost transparent.  Mike could see the veins in his temple and neck.  He was shaking as if he was cold, but beads of sweat were rolling down his face, and his eyes were unfocused, distant.

"…Mike…let me up…I just..just want to go to bed.  I..I'll be O.K. in the morning.  I'm…just…maybe I have the flu…"  Lucas' voice was weak, fading in and out, and Mike watched his face twist in…pain? …as he tried to get off the couch.

"You stay right there, Lucas."  Anne stuck the thermometer tip inside his ear and pressed the button.  She checked the reading and raised her eyebrows.  "102.1.  Here, Mike, wipe off his face.."  She handed him the damp towel.

"I….I'm going to be sick, Mike."  Lucas looked terribly embarrassed.  Mike got him to the bathroom in time and held his shoulders while he gagged repeatedly.  Mike's nose identified the smell even before his eyes registered the color—this was blood…

Lucas finished and slumped forward.  Mike gently wiped his mouth with the wet towel, and then picked him up.  The boy's eyes slid closed, and he lay, unmoving, in Mike's arms.  

"Anne…"  Mike whispered fiercely, "..he's throwing up blood. Start the car…we need to get him to the hospital now.

Mike held Lucas while Anne drove.  Lucille Packard Children's Hospital was adjunct to Stanford Medical Center and right across the campus.  Lucas moaned once, but did not regain consciousness.  Mike talked to him; he wasn't sure that Lucas could hear him, but it made him feel better anyway.  

"Lucas, buddy.  You need to hang on.  We're almost there.  The doctors will find out what's wrong and fix you up in no time…you just do your part…hang on.  Anne! Hurry!  His breathing…it's getting strange."

Anne could hear the panic in Mike's voice; she could also hear Lucas, and almost wished she couldn't.  Every breath was rattling in his chest or his throat, and sometimes, he would gasp as if he couldn't get enough air.  She almost cried in relief as she turned into the hospital's emergency room parking lot.

Mike rushed Lucas inside, and Anne filled out the paperwork.  Then they both sat down to wait.

One hour passed, then two.  After almost three hours, a stern-faced doctor approached.  "Mr. and Mrs. Norris?  I'm Dr. Lee.  I operated on Lucas"

"How…how is he?  What happened?"

"He…will be fine.  But you've asked the question that Social Services will want to ask you—and Lucas.  They should be here any time."

"What…?  Social Services..?  Why?"  Anne searched the surgeon's face.  He was…glaring at them.

"Lucas has been severely beaten in the last day or two, possibly more than one time.  His peritoneum was torn, both kidneys were badly bruised, and his duodenum, part of his small intestine by his stomach, had ruptured.  That is where the blood in the vomit was coming from.  Additionally…his…back is covered with scars.  I've….seen these types of scars before.  This child has been whipped."

Anne paled.  She closed her eyes and brought one trembling hand up to cover them.  Mike took her other hand and stared at the physician in shock.

"Wait…wait a minute!  You think…think that we did this to him?"

The doctor looked a bit uneasy at Mike's angry tone.

'Does he think that I am going to hit him?'  Mike intentionally softened his tone. Inside he was seething, and scared to death for Lucas.  "We…brought Lucas here directly after he was dropped off by his mother.  He's been at his mom's home in San Diego over the Thanksgiving break.  Anne and I run the dorm house where Lucas is staying.  He's enrolled at Stanford."

"He…is a student here?  He looks too young…I thought that you were his guardians.  I…am sorry if I…"  The doctor now looked uncertainly at them both.

Anne interrupted him, concerned about Lucas.  "Can we see him?"

"No.  You won't be allowed in until Social Services talks to Lucas—alone.  Sorry.  If your story checks out, then you'll be allowed to see him.  Lucas should be moved from recovery to his private room in an hour."  He glanced at his watch, then turned and disappeared back through the OR doors.

Anne had tears in her eyes as she watched him go.  "Oh, Mike…poor Lucas,  oh poor baby…"  She began to cry as he pulled her into his arms.

Mike was furious.  He didn't know what to do with the anger building in him.  'What kind of…two-legged…animal..would do these hideous things to Lucas—Lucas was so easy to love, would do anything for you once he got to know you.'  Mike's head filled with questions; but he had no answers.  They needed to talk to Lucas.  For now, all they could do was wait and hold each other and….Oh, God…what were they going to tell the rest of the kids at the house?  What were they going to tell Jenny?  She had been at the library when they rushed out—she knew that Lucas was coming home today.

They sat in silence for a long time, just holding each other, and trying to absorb, to accept…the unacceptable.  Then, an unfamiliar voice spoke, addressing them, and Mike looked up.

"Hello?  I'm Katherine O'Shaughney from Social Services, foster care division."  She showed them her license.  "I am on my way in to interview Lucas.  I just talked to the surgeon and he referred me to you to find out a little more about Lucas' background.  What can you tell me?"  Her sharp eyes studied them both.

"What…sort of information…what do you want to know?"

"Parents…home life…he's eleven?"

"Twelve next month"

"Awfully young to be away at college, without his parents—seems too young for this life, and he has no family here."

"He has us…" Anne answered quickly.  Mike looked at her, surprised.  She had just lectured him the other day about keeping his distance from the dorm residents, especially Lucas.  They were responsible for the kids under their care, but it would be unhealthy for them to get too involved in their lives.  These young people had families, and they would eventually all go home, and the Norris family needed to stay out of this 'parental' territory.  They did not have the right to interfere or complicate the parent/child relationship.  This lecture was ludicrous coming from his wife who hugged Lucas nightly.  But she didn't see any contradiction. Anne noted his surprise and smiled sweetly, remembering what she had said.  He squeezed her hand, twice, his signal for 'I told you so'.

Ms. O'Shaughney looked from one to the other.  They were certainly reacting like worried parents.  They didn't fit the abuser profile…it didn't feel right.  She was inclined to agree with the surgeon.  He'd said that he now believed this couple wasn't involved.

Mike spoke next.  "We'll try to answer any questions that you have, but Lucas is reticent to talk about his past.  We don't know much.   His mom and dad are separated.  His father, Dr. Wolenczak—yes, he's that Dr. Wolenczak—is at World Power, his mother is in San Diego.  We didn't see who picked Lucas up last Tuesday, nor did we see who dropped him off today."

Anne chimed in.  "As soon as I heard the car, I looked out.  Lucas was on the ground, sick.  We ran out, and brought him here."

The social worker nodded as Anne spoke.  She was jotting notes in a file.  When Anne stopped, Ms. O'Shaughney gazed levelly at her and Mike.  "I need to interview Lucas.  I think that you should wait right outside—as long as he agrees with your account, I'll let you in immediately."

She beckoned them to follow her.  Mike helped Anne up, and they trailed behind the social worker to Lucas' door.  Ms. O'Shaughney motioned them to sit down in the nearby waiting room.  Then she opened the door and walked inside.

Mike and Anne sat down to wait—again.  She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her.  Both were thinking about Lucas, wondering what had happened, and praying that they could help him through it.

In Lucas' room, Ms. O'Shaughney had placed his file on the side table and approached his bed.  She had an excellent memory and chose never to take notes while interviewing a child.  She found that she was more effective by directing her undivided attention to the victim, watching their eyes and their facial expressions had, many times, given her more truthful information than their words.

Lucas had been looking out the window, but he turned toward her when she cleared her throat.

"Hello, Lucas.  My name is Katherine O'Shaughney.  I need to speak with you.  I'm from Children's Protective Services."

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Thank you to all reviewers, especially Angel and Frankie, who have given me specific comments and suggestions.  I am writing this for my own entertainment, but knowing that I have interested or entertained you, my faithful readers, that does encourage me to get the chapters out there faster.  Thanks.

Too Young

Chapter Eleven

At the Hospital

Katherine blinked.  He _did not _look twelve, well almost twelve.  Maybe a lanky ten year old, but, to her, they all looked so young, _too young_—these victims of adult rage.  The boy's abdomen was lightly bandaged, with a drainage tube visible..and…oh…lord…the bruises on this child.  His stomach was purple, red, and black, the discoloration extending up to his chest.  He had blue finger marks on his forearms and shoulders that told a story of their own—of being held in place while the blows fell.  She had seen all this before.  What was unusual was his reaction to her introduction.  His face was solemn, and he did not seem either surprised or alarmed to see her.  Most older children were very afraid at this point.  But his blue eyes, so intense—even in weariness—studied her calmly, carefully.

"Lucas, I need to ask you some questions."

He nodded once, waiting.

"Who did this to you?"

He raised his eyebrows at her bluntness.  Usually, the caseworker took more time getting to this point.  His first interviewer took 35 minutes to ask 'the question'.  He was so tired, but he realized that this was necessary and that he had to be careful.  What he said now would affect his future.  He _did not _want to leave the dorm.  He didn't want to be separated from Mike and Anne and…and Jenny.  He was…happy…in their home, now his home, and he didn't want to lose that.  He took a deeper breath, wincing slightly and answered her, answered 'the question'.

"I…don't want to tell you who did this…Actually, _I won't _tell you_._"

Her face showed her surprise.  Of course, she'd heard this answer before; all caseworkers had.  But he didn't say the words with the confusion, or defiance, or anger _that always_ accompanied them.  He used a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were telling her his phone number, or reciting his part in a…a..familiar story?  Was that it?  She studied his eyes, so blue, but so full of awareness—of…understanding.  He smiled slightly at her, and she suddenly realized that he'd been through all this before, this interview process…and probably more than once.  She'd stake her license on it.  Yet she'd run a check on this family.  It was standard practice when social services got a hospital report of suspected abuse.  There was…nothing.  Flustered now, she did something that she'd never done before, she reached over and checked his file again.  Yes—it was clean.  According to their records, Lucas Wolenczak had never had an encounter with a caseworker, the foster care system, or any social service department anywhere.  The same was true when she had run Cynthia and Lawrence's names.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  What was going on?

He waited.  He could see her confusion, her puzzlement, and he knew the cause.  After a minute, he took pity on her and decided he would at least explain about his file.  He was so exhausted that all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and sleep, but perhaps if he explained a little, she would realize all of this didn't matter and leave…just…leave, and let him rest.  He took a chance.

"My father—do you know who he is and what he does for the UEO?"

She nodded, thinking,  'Just when did I lose control of this interview?'

"He…makes…these…incidents disappear.  I've been in foster care four times now—it never lasts long—a few days, once three weeks…then the charges will be dropped, and my dad comes to an understanding with the caseworker, or the caseworker's supervisor.  The file contents are…deleted, the record expunged.  The UEO has scrubbed my file several times.  That's why you didn't find anything."

"Your father…_he** did this** to you_?"

Lucas was gratified to hear her outrage.  She still cared for the kids she served.  She wasn't burnt out, or overwhelmed, like so many he'd seen, but it would make this 'incident' harder to erase.  "My father had a problem with alcohol in the past; that's over now.  He hasn't had a drink in twenty-seven months.  I haven't even seen him in three months, since he went to World Power.  And…I still won't tell you who did this."  His voice faded a little at the end.  She could see his exhaustion.

"But the previous times, the four foster care placements, those came from injuries caused by your father?"  She couldn't or _wouldn't _let this drop.

"My dad hasn't touched me in years.  He's sober now.  I can't change the past, as much as I might like to…and neither can you."

His voice, so resigned, so sad, made tears prickle in her eyes.  How had he become so…so..accustomed to this treatment?  She wouldn't just let this drop.  He was a child, and it was her job to protect him…to make sure that the person who did this never hurt him again.

He had watched her face change, her chin firm with determination.  He added hurriedly, "I know that it won't happen again…"

"How?  How…can you know that?  And even if…if..it doesn't, justice needs to be done, you can't let this…person…get away with this.  You almost died!"  She gestured at his abdomen.

"I know it won't happen again because…I will not be returning to my mom's house…I…I'm not wanted there."  His voice cracked a little, and she saw the hurt and rejection flicker quickly across his features.  

He noted her intense scrutiny and shifted painfully away from her, then closed his eyes, shutting her out.

"Your…mother did this?"

His eyes flew open again at that.  "NO!…no…it's not her—let's just say that she has made lousy choices in men."  He sighed; he hadn't meant to tell her so much.

She would not let up.  "So, a boyfriend?"

"Look, I…I'm not going to cooperate with your investigation.   And…even…even if I chose to, it won't change anything.  I…."

"You need to make sure that he doesn't get away with what he's done to you!  If you don't care, then I will care for you…you can't….just let this go."

Lucas looked at her sadly.  "No one gets away with anything.  Don't you realize that?  It's just that….that…sometimes, we don't get to see their…consequences.  No one gets away with anything…"

She stared at him openmouthed.  Then she took his hand. 'Two firsts, Katherine. First you check his file…in front of him.  Now, you're touching a client.  You have really lost it here.'  She said aloud, "You…you..really believe what you are saying? 'No one gets away with anything?'"

He nodded…and squeezed her hand weakly.  "If I thought it would help, I would tell you…everything.  I…I did want to tell you that…that..I admire what you do.  No.  Not just what you do, but how you choose to do it.  I can tell that you care about the kids you try to help.  Thank you…for that.  Don't ever stop; it's what we need the most.  But…don't bother writing this up, it will just disappear on you…and…you need to spend your time helping someone who really needs you."  He let go of her hand

She brushed his hair off his forehead.  Had she ever become so attached to a 'client' this early?  She didn't think so.

"What about you?"

"I…have Mike and Anne now.  I have school.  I…even…have my dad, sometimes.  I'll be O.K., really."  His eyes locked on hers.  "For the first time…I have a family.  Please…please don't pursue this, just let it drop.  I don't want to leave them—even for a little while."

She didn't know what to do now.  "I…need to talk with the Norris's…and Lucas, I'll expect them to monitor every interaction with your mother…"

"She…doesn't want me around."  He was crying now.  "There..won't be any 'interaction' to 'monitor'."  He tried to rub his eyes, but his IV restricted his movements and he flinched at the pulling pinch on his arm.  She took a tissue and gently wiped his tears away for him.

She said quietly, "Lucas, I will let Mike and Anne in to see you now, and I will agree for you to be released in their care when you are discharged here.  But I can't let this drop…I will have to contact your father.  I believe that counseling could be of great benefit to you.  Will you cooperate with that, at least?" 

She smiled softly at him and then turned to pick up his file.  If she judged the Norris's correctly, they would agree to transport Lucas to counseling, perhaps even participate as a support for the boy.  She would talk to them right now.  Katherine patted Lucas' arm and placed her card in his hand.  "Call me..if you need anything.  I will get Mike and Anne in here as soon as I finish speaking with them.  Try to get some rest."

When the door closed behind her, Lucas turned again toward the window.  He was folding and unfolding her card in his hand.  His eyesight was blurry, and he couldn't make out the numbers on the card.  Tears of pain, of relief, of…hope…clouded his vision.  He set the card he'd never use on the bed and covered it with his hand.  He looked out the window at the trees, listened to the wind blow, and watched the clouds in the blue sky.  After a few minutes, his eyes closed, and he slept.

Next:  Jenny visits.

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Thanks to Angel for the bus idea.  Carl does deserve it.  Maybe it will happen someday.

Too Young

Chapter Twelve

Jenny Visits

Lucas didn't stir when Katherine led Mike and Anne into his room.  He didn't wake when Anne began crying…didn't open his eyes even when Mike took his hand and Anne stroked his cheek.  They sat with him until the nurse gently kicked them out so she could check Lucas' incision and vitals.

They waited in the hall, numb and unspeaking—shocked by the sight of him.  Katherine had tried to warn them about how bad he looked, but they still weren't prepared for it.  How…could anyone do this to him?

"Mike.  I've got to call the house.  One of us will need to go home soon."

He nodded.  He was thinking.  Katherine had said that counseling would be a requirement for Lucas if he were to continue to stay with them.  She would be calling him in a week to see what he had arranged.  He did have someone in mind.  He knew that Andrew would be good for Lucas, and he was licensed.  He would meet social services' standard.  He didn't foresee any problem with Katherine on that.  But Lucas was reluctant to discuss his past, and he didn't want to force counseling on him.  What good would it do then?  Perhaps Jenny should talk to him.  She'd met with Andrew for a few months after her parents' death, and it had helped her immensely.  Maybe that would be the way to convince Lucas—through Jenny.

Anne came back from using the vidlink.  She had been crying again.  "Jenny's on her way here.  Mark and Tyler are driving her…they were all so worried.  They saw the blood on the bathroom floor and on the towel.  I…I should have called earlier.  They were about to call the _police,_ Mike."

He hugged her.  "Neither one of us have been thinking about anything but—this, Anne.  I should have left a note.  What did you tell them?"

"Just that Lucas was injured, and we would be here with him for awhile.  Mike…we need to call his father, too."

He grimaced.  "I want a chance to talk to Lucas, first.  Anne, what do you think about asking Jenny to talk to him about counseling?"

She looked startled, then comprehension dawned, "Oh, you want him to see Andrew?"  She had leaned against the wall next to him, and now she drummed her fingers nervously against her thigh as she considered it.

"Mike, Jenny—may not be able to handle seeing Lucas right now.  I…I…guess it would be all right to ask her, depending on how well she handles this."

He knew what her concerns were, and he shared them.  Jenny's parents had died as a result of an automobile accident.  Jenny's father, Ryan, had died instantly.  But Jenny had experienced three days of watching her mother suffer in the ICU, before a blood clot broke off from Mary's liver and killed her. Mary had had severe abdominal injuries, and she had been bruised extensively….much like Lucas was now.  But Mary had never awakened.  Both Mike and Anne had been with Jenny for two of those days, having been notified by the hospital when Ryan and Mary were admitted—Ryan to the morgue and Mary to surgery.  They had been told to hurry, that Mary was not expected to live either.  Mike had driven to the hospital that night, listening to Anne as she tried to come to terms with her brother-in-law's death and her sister's grave condition.  When they arrived at the hospital, Jenny wouldn't speak to them at first.  She'd been sitting with a nun, one of the sisters of Mercy who worked there.  Jenny's eyes were swollen and sore, but when she finally recognized that her Aunt Anne and Uncle Mike were there, with her, she latched onto them, especially Anne.  

In the days following the funeral, Jenny stuck closer to Anne than her shadow, and at night, Anne held Jenny for hours after the girl woke screaming, reliving in her imagination the accident that she'd never seen.  Jenny needed so much from them both, but all their care and love was not enough to banish her nightmares and her insecurity.  Jenny was scared to let them out of her sight.  After two months of interrupted sleep and clinginess, the three of them were exhausted.  Mike had broached the subject of counseling immediately following the funeral, but, at the time, Anne thought all Jenny needed was their attention and love to heal.  Anne was more receptive to the idea now, and Mike recommended Andrew, who Jenny's father, Ryan, had known in college.

'Brother Andrew' Ryan and Mary had called him in their letters home.  Brother Andrew, who spoke with a soft Irish lilt and had kind eyes.  He had a divinity degree from Harvard and a doctorate from UCSF in Child Psychology.  He was licensed through the State of California and had an office at the Memorial Church on Stanford's campus.  When he completed his divinity degree, he had decided that his calling in life was to counsel people, 'hurt in life's storms,' as he had said in his soft slow voice.  Jenny loved him.  In his office, while holding Anne's hand, Jenny had been able to unload her guilt about the anger she felt toward her parents.  They had left her when she still needed them, and she had felt abandoned.  She was so angry, and she felt guilty for it, for being alive when they were dead.  Andrew had listened, his bright blue eyes warmly attentive.  He had just let her talk, had let her say everything that she was thinking and feeling, until she ran out of words.  He didn't judge her, but accepted her feelings as valid.  Then he began to talk to her about his memories of her father, Ryan, and her mother, Mary.  He had met them both at Harvard, and they had become good friends, sharing dinners at least once a week.  He had a way with words, and told funny tales of the threes' shared past.  As he talked, he began to cry.  First one tear, and then many, but his voice never wavered.  Jenny noticed his tears, and began to cry too…softly at first, then sobbing heavily.  When he took her hand, she choked out what had been poisoning her heart—she had had a fight with her mother the night before the accident.  In the middle of the argument, she had wished aloud that Mary would stop interfering with her plans, would just get out of her life.  She sobbed out, 'I guess I got my wish, didn't I?  I…deserve to die, too.  What kind of person am I?'  That confession started a long series of healing conversations, where Andrew was able to lead Jenny to accept her parents' deaths, and to forgive herself for the heated words said to her mother.   He was able to show her that she hadn't really meant what she had said, and her mother Mary had known that. 

He had suggested that Anne and Mike take Jenny to her parents' gravesite, and they had done so the next day.  All three of them cried as Jenny knelt there and placed a wreath on the shared stone.  Jenny traced the letters of her mother's name with her fingertips and asked Mary to forgive her. That night, Jenny slept through for the first time since the accident—no nightmares.  She had had very few of them since then. 

Mike and Anne looked up when they heard hurried footsteps down the hall.  Mark, Tyler, and Jenny walked quickly toward them.  "How is the kid?"  Tyler said, his voice soft.  "We left a note for the others—they weren't back yet."

"Aunt Anne, is…will…he be all right?"  Jenny's voice broke halfway through, and Mike pulled her toward himself, hugging her gently.

"Jenny, guys, he's…been hurt pretty bad.  We've been in to see him already, but he was sleeping.  The surgeon says he'll be O.K., though."  He tried to smile, but it didn't come out as comforting as he had intended.

Mark had been studying him carefully.  "Why a surgeon?  What happened to Lucas?" 

Mike swallowed heavily.  "He was vomiting blood when he was dropped off at the house.  Whoever gave him the ride didn't stick around.  Anne noticed him struggling just to get to the front door.  We rushed him here when we realized what was going on."

Most of the color had left Jenny's face.  "Uncle Mike…what happened to him?  Why…why was he bleeding internally like that?"

"Jenny, at his mom's house, somebody _beat him, abused him_.  His…his small intestine, his kidneys, the lining of his abdomen.."

"The peritoneum?"  Mark and Tyler asked together.

"Yes.  It had torn, and his intestine had ruptured.  His kidneys were bruised."  He stopped, concerned about his audience.  The two boys were not as close to Lucas as Jenny or Viktor, but both looked sick and worried.  Mark had his hand over his mouth, and Tyler's face was pinched and white.  Jenny was rigid with shock.

"Who…did it?"  Mark asked, his voice full of anger.  He looked ready to hit something, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"We…don't know.  Lucas won't say, at least he wouldn't to Katherine—she's from Social Services."  He hastened to explain further.  "The hospital called Social Services when they saw the bruises on Lucas.  She's the representative who was here earlier interviewing him.  He wouldn't cooperate and tell her who it was, but at least we were cleared…"  
"_What!_  They suspected you guys?  They thought, they actually thought that you or Anne would do that to him?"  Tyler was incredulous, and Jenny looked angry now.

"Well, we were the ones who brought him here.  I guess we were the likely suspects—for a little while anyway.  Don't worry about it; Lucas cleared us."  Mike tried to laugh a little about the idea.

"Can…we see him?"  Mark asked.  "and when we do, should we try to talk to him about it, you think?"

Mike shook his head.  "I think we should let Lucas talk about it when he's ready.  Katherine told us that Lucas would need to see a counselor right away, so I'm supposed to set that up."

All three of them shook their heads, but it was Tyler who spoke.  "Oh, man.  The kid is going to hate that.  You know how he is about giving out any personal information, and that's to us….we know him.  What's he going to be like with a stranger?"

"I don't know, but we do have to try.  You can go in to see him when the nurse gets done in there, but don't push him to talk now.  He…he looks really bad, guys.  Please, when you see him, keep in mind that the doctor did say that he will be all right."

Jenny was still very pale, but she said firmly.  "We'll make sure he's O.K.  And we won't push him to talk, Uncle Mike."  The boys nodded their agreement.

When the nurse left, Mike and Anne led the three young people into the room.  Lucas was turned away from them, and the sheet covering him had fallen to his waist.  The hospital gown he now had on was tied loosely, and a large section of his back was visible.  "Oh God…"  Mike said softly.  He had temporarily forgotten the surgeon's statement of much earlier: that 'he'd seen marks like that before.  This child had been whipped.'

"What?"  Anne started.  Then she grabbed his arm, and turned slightly away so she couldn't see…that…She looked at the kids instead.  

Mark and Tyler had frozen a few feet away from the bed.  Anne could see Tyler's shoulders shaking and knew that he was crying.  Mark's face was turned toward the bed, but Anne could see his jaw clench so hard that the bones stood out in white relief just under his skin.

Jenny was swaying slightly, and, concerned, Anne stepped forward to her.  She was afraid that the girl would collapse.  Jenny looked grateful for her support, and squeezed her arm, but then she walked forward past the boys and sat down on the edge of the bed.  If Lucas felt the bed shift, he did not respond.  Jenny took the sheet and pulled it up over him, resting her hand on his shoulder.  She turned back towards them, and her eyes were overflowing.

"Uncle Mike….what happened?"  There was so much sorrow in her voice, so much bewilderment.  She could not imagine how any person could treat another like this.  And Lucas, oh God…how could anyone hurt him?  He was the sweetest kid she'd ever known.  She began to stroke the hair on the back of his head.  She wouldn't have known what to say to him if he had been awake.  Jenny felt slightly relieved that he was still sleeping.

"I'm…sorry.  I had forgotten for a little while that the doctor mentioned those scars.  It's one of the reasons that Social Services was called."  Mike looked apologetically at them all.  "I should have remembered, so I could have warned you…"

"I don't think it would have made much of a difference.  How prepared can you be to see that?"  Mark's voice was a curious mix of disgust, outrage and sorrow.  "Let me guess.  The same asshole who put him in here now did this to him some time ago?"  His voice had risen in his anger.

"We don't know, Mark… and please keep your voice down.  We don't want to disturb him."  Anne spoke softly, but firmly.

"Sorry."  Mark whispered.  "I…I just want to see this creep punished…maybe we could run him over very, very slowly with a bus, that sounds fair."

"How about two buses?"  Tyler smiled slightly.

"Or three?"  Jenny added with a small soft laugh.  She stopped abruptly when Lucas' head shifted under her hand.  He was turning over onto his back, so she moved over slightly, giving him more room.

Anne and Mike stepped forward now, one on either side of Jenny, and Mark and Tyler walked around the bed to the far side by the window.  Lucas' cheeks were flushed with sleep and fever; his eyes were still closed, but he showed signs of waking up.  His forehead had furrowed slightly, and they could see his eyes moving beneath his eyelids.  He still had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was thinner than it had been a few days ago.  It looked like he hadn't slept or eaten much since he had left the house four days before.  Mike took his hand and squeezed it gently.  "Hey buddy.  We're here with you.  It's O.K., you're going to be all right.  You just need to get well quick so we can get you out of here."

Lucas' eyelids opened slowly.  His eyes were clouded with pain and fever, but his gaze sharpened slightly when he saw them all.  "H..Hello."  He tried to smile, but it twisted into a frown when he moved and jarred his abdomen.

"Are you hurting?  Do you want me to get the nurse?"  Anne asked him gently.

He shook his head slowly.  "I…I'll be fine.  It…it doesn't hurt that bad, now."  He managed a stronger smile.  "What was wrong with me?"   He gestured down to his midsection.

"You were bleeding inside and it had to be stopped.  The surgeon says he repaired it all and you'll be fine."  Mike gave what he hoped was a reassuring summary of the damage.  He didn't think Lucas was quite up to hearing just how close he had come to bleeding to death.  

Lucas searched his face.  He saw Mike's fear for him, and was sorry that he had put it there.  Mike and Anne were great, and they didn't deserve to be dragged into his problems.  He sighed, suddenly very tired again.

Anne noticed.  "I think you need to rest, and you won't do that with all of us standing around you, will you?  One of us should be plenty of company for a while.  Who would you like to stay with you for the next few hours?"

Lucas glanced at Jenny first, but then said hoarsely, "I…I don't care.  You should all go get some rest.  I…I'll be all right here by myself…really.  You've done enough…you do enough for me…you don't need to stay here with me, too."

Mike patted his arm. "I know that you are not used to having so many people care about you, Lucas.  But you're stuck with us, so get used to having us around.  We have no plans to go away and leave you alone.  I think we'll leave Jenny here for now, and then Anne or I will come back in a few hours and spend the night here with you."

Lucas just looked at Anne, and then over to Mike.   Finally, he nodded his agreement.  He didn't understand why they would do this for him.  He wanted them to; he didn't want to be left alone, wanted them near him, but he couldn't fathom why they would do this—for him.  He tried to reason it out, but he was so tired.  He barely felt Anne's kiss on his forehead or heard the soft good-byes from Mike, Tyler, and Mark.  He wanted to tell them all what their caring meant to him, but the words wouldn't come.  He didn't realize that he was crying, crying as he fell asleep with Jenny still there, holding his hand.

Jenny looked at the sleeping boy.  She felt helpless.  Helpless to say or to do the right thing for Lucas.  Before she had left with Uncle Mike, Aunt Anne had offered to stay with her, but Jenny had refused.  She wanted to be alone with Lucas, to sort out her feelings.  When Aunt Anne had called, and told them that Lucas was hurt, Jenny's emotions were almost as strong as when the police came to get her after her parents' accident.  This surprised her.  She knew that she liked Lucas, but she hadn't known that she would feel this…horrible about him being hurt.  And when she had arrived here, and had learned that he'd almost bled out, almost_ died_, her heart felt like someone had turned it sideways within her, and expected her to keep going on as usual.  The pain was physical.  It hurt to look at him and to know what had happened…and what had almost happened.

Uncle Mike had told her about the counseling requirement from Katherine.  And Andrew had come to her mind immediately as well.  She readily agreed to discuss it with Lucas if he woke up and felt like talking.  

For now, she sat and let her eyes travel from Lucas' face to his hands, then back up to his face; she was searching for any sign of alertness, any sign that he was ready to wake up.  She held his right hand between hers, and thought about his back, about those darker stripes crossing the smooth surface of his skin.  How had he survived that?  It must have hurt like…she couldn't imagine how much it hurt him.  No wonder he didn't talk about his family.  There were horrors in his past that she couldn't understand.  

She began whispering to him, even though he was sleeping.  She felt uncomfortable with the silence now.  "Lucas.  It's Jenny.  I'm here with you.  I'm holding your hand.  Can you squeeze mine?  You've got a fever now, and the nurse says that it will take a little while for that to go away.  They're giving you antibiotics to help your body fight it.  I wish that you'd wake up…even though I have no idea what I could say to you to…to…help you feel better."

Her voice got gradually softer until it was inaudible, and she was blinking back tears.  When the nurse had come in a few minutes ago to inject the antibiotic, she had uncovered Lucas to cool him off.  Jenny had gotten her first glimpse of his stomach.  She had almost cried out with the shock of it, but she bit her lip and stuck by the bed.  The nurse had smiled at her then.

"I know that it looks terrible, but he is going to recover.  He will be just fine.  Will you be here for a while?"

At Jenny's nod, she had continued.  "Here is a cup of ice chips.  He's getting fluids through his IV and won't be able to take anything by mouth for a day or two, but when he wakes up, his mouth will be really dry.  You can give him as many ice chips as he wants."

She patted Jenny's arm and took a plastic spoon out of her pocket, putting it beside the cup of ice.  "Just push the button if he needs something."

Jenny nodded again, still not trusting her voice.  The nurse left quietly.

Jenny's fingers gently trailed across the bruises not covered by the bandage.  How she wished that she could erase them, erase the pain and anger and fear that caused them to be here.  Lucas' skin felt hot under her hand.  She prayed that his fever would come down soon.  She found herself remembering another hospital room, sitting by another bed, and watching her mother fight a losing battle for her life.  

She leaned toward the bed, moving her chair closer, and laid her head next to Lucas' side.  She wept.  She cried for Lucas, and for herself.  She missed her mom fiercely at times, and being here had brought all the feelings of sadness and terror to the surface once again.  She felt so alone in the world, and she had the thought that if her mom were here, this would all be better.  Her mom would know how to help Lucas.  Jenny knew that this was irrational, wishful thinking, but those thoughts followed her into sleep as her eyes closed.  She slept, her body leaning on the bed.  Her head rested on her right arm, next to Lucas' side, and her right hand still clasped his.

An hour later, Jenny was startled awake when Lucas shifted, groaning softly.  She sat up slowly, her shoulders and neck stiff from the awkward position she had slept in.  Lucas' face was shadowed with pain, his mouth turned down slightly, and his head moved restlessly on the pillow.  Jenny leaned forward and stroked his hair back from his sweaty forehead.  He didn't feel as hot anymore.  Maybe his fever had broken.

"Shh…It's O.K., Lucas.  You're going to be all right."  Unknowing, she copied her uncle's words as she tried to soothe him.

Lucas' eyes opened.  He blinked a few times to clear his vision and then he smiled at her.  She smiled back.  She loved his smile.  It was a little crooked, but it was so…beautiful.  It transformed his whole face, and showed exactly what he was feeling.  Right now, he was very happy that she was there.  She winked at him, and his smile brightened.

"…Jenny…" He croaked.  His voice was shaky and his throat sounded so dry.  He tried to swallow, but there was little moisture in his mouth.  He started to cough, and his face twisted in pain at the movement.

"Here.  The nurse left this for you."  She fumbled with the first piece of ice, clumsy in her hurry to help him.  It dropped on the floor, and she blushed.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Lucas…"

The next piece made it safely into his mouth and his coughing eased.  He sucked on the small cube, half closing his eyes with the relief that it brought.  "Thanks…I…I dreamed about you…that you were here.  And here you are."

She took his hand, smiling shyly at him.

"Jenny…what time is it?"  Lucas was feeling disoriented and a little sick.  His stomach burned after the coughing, but it wasn't as painful as the last time he was awake.

"It's ten o'clock at night, Friday night.  Are you feeling any better?  I…I…think that your fever is going away."

He nodded at her, studying her carefully.  "Are…you O.K. Jenny?"  He had noticed that she had been crying.  He reached toward her with his free hand, touching her face, where it was tear-stained.  She released his hand that she had been holding and covered the hand on her cheek, holding it tightly to her face.

"Oh, Lucas.  I…we…were so worried.  I'm so sorry.  I…I…it is _so hard_ to see you—my best friend—so hurt, and hurt so badly by…by…someone that you should be able to trust."  His hand felt good on her face, like it fit there, like it belonged there.  She knew that she was crying again, because he began to move his hand under hers, wiping her tears away.

"Don't…Jenny…don't cry.  I'm all right.  I'll be O.K., Jenny…don't…I…I…_Please…don't cry_."

She sniffed, and smiled weakly at him, releasing his hand.  He looked at her.  He…he looked worried….about…her?

"Jenny…it's all right.  It will be all right."  His voice was stronger now, but his words didn't convince.

"NO!  Lucas…it won't be all right.  You…you almost _died.  I almost lost you._  I…I..can't even imagine my life without you now.  And…and that Social Services worker thought…thought that _Uncle Mike had done this_ at first."  She looked down at his stomach and then up quickly.  She felt so sick.  "Oh, Lucas, _you almost bled to death tonight._"

Jenny twisted the sheet in her hands, looking down at the bed.  Lucas reached again for her, lifting her face so she was looking into his eyes. 

"Jenny…I'm sorry."  His voice wavered a little.  "I…I…need you to be my friend, but I don't want you hurt…or Mike or Anne.  I…I…don't want to leave the house, but …but..maybe that would be the best thing for you….and them.  You don't need my proble…"

Jenny placed her fingers firmly over his mouth, stopping him.  "Lucas, you little idiot."  Her eyes were flashing.  Lucas thought she looked gorgeous.  "Lucas, _we are involved_.  We care about you.  Part of that is hurting when you hurt.  Don't you understand that?"  She removed her fingers, uncovering his mouth…and…then kissed him quickly, her lips pressing down where her fingers had been seconds before.

His eyes widened, and he smiled, just a little.  Jenny's face was red now, but she held his gaze.  'She _likes me_' he thought.  He searched her face and saw that she wasn't really as angry as she had sounded.  She cared about him.  He was lying here in a hospital bed, his stomach hurt, and his ugly past was coming to light.  But…Jenny _liked_ him.  He was….happy?  Yes.  He was very happy.  He was getting tired again, but he felt…more peaceful, somehow.  Jenny was here with him, holding his hand, and she_ liked him._  She'd just kissed him.  He could still feel the firm cool pressure of her mouth on his.  He smiled at her as his eyes blinked sleepily.  

This time, when he fell asleep, he was smiling softly, bringing the thought of Jenny's kiss into his dreams.

Next:  Counseling Session.

To be continued…


	13. Chapter thirteen

Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it.  Enjoy…and review.

Too Young

Chapter Thirteen

Counseling Session

The next time Lucas woke up, Mike sat by the bed.  He was reading the release and medication information; the doctor had just been in, and he had checked the chart and Lucas' vitals.  Everything looked good, so he O.K.'d Lucas' release for that afternoon. 

Mike had finally gotten hold of Lawrence's secretary, and he had said he would relay Mike's message about what happened to Lucas over Thanksgiving Break.  Mike had no confidence that Lawrence would actually respond.  He hadn't cared to take him over Thanksgiving, would he care what happened to him now?

Mike sighed, and then looked up as he noticed Lucas shift in the bed.  He smiled at the boy.

"Good morning, Lucas.  How are you today?  You feeling better?"

His voice rose hopefully at the end.  Lucas had been in a lot of pain yesterday and last night, and he was so stubborn about asking for help to get more comfortable or to even accept regular pain medication.  Consequently, he hadn't slept as well as he could have.  Anne told him all this before she left.  She had held Lucas' hand most of the night, and she looked exhausted this morning.  Mike knew that they all were having a hard time accepting what had happened to the boy.

Lucas smiled shyly at him.  "Hey Mike.  Am I getting out of here soon?"

At Mike's nod, Lucas said eagerly.  "When?  Today?"

"Yep.  But there are conditions, kid."  Mike looked at him with a mock stern expression, shaking the stack of discharge papers in front of his face.

Lucas laughed, and then clutched his stomach, his face twisting.

"Hey…Take it easy.  Sorry about that."  Mike's voice was soft and apologetic.

Lucas nodded and closed his eyes for a minute.  He took a deep breath, shuddering a little on the exhale.

"It's O.K., Mike.  It feels….manageable today."

"Manageable, huh?"  Mike smiled sadly.  "How many times have you had to 'manage' pain, Lucas?"

The boy flushed and looked down, picking at the sheet over him.

"Lucas, Anne and I care about you.  We never want to see you hurt again.  I need to let you know that I finally did get a hold of your father's office.  I didn't talk directly to Lawrence, though."

Lucas looked up at Mike's disgusted tone of voice.  "He's….really busy, Mike."

"No way, kid.  Don't make one more excuse for him.  What's more important than his son?"  Mike sighed explosively at the look on Lucas' face.  He was mad at himself for not controlling his words.  Lucas did not need to hear this—it's not like the kid didn't already have these thoughts.  He was painfully aware of where he fell in his father's list of priorities.  He didn't need Mike to remind him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Lucas."  He continued more softly.  "I just…I guess I'm angry right now."

Lucas shifted again, sitting up further.  He appreciated Mike's concern, but he really didn't want to talk about his dad.  He changed the subject.

"Mike, when are you springing me?  When do I get to leave?"  
"After lunch, Anne is coming to pick us up.  The doctor wants to see your reaction to one more meal before he lets you out."

Lucas looked at the clock.  It was 11:30, almost lunchtime.  He wasn't hungry, but he would eat to leave.  He had had his fill of hospitals.

By 1:30, the doctor was convinced that Lucas' stomach was digesting his lunch normally, so he went over the medications with Mike and Anne again and waved farewell to Lucas.

"I never **_never_** want to see you for this again."  Were his parting words.  His smile softened the stern tone, and he patted Lucas' arm before he left.

Lucas was quiet on the ride back to the house.  Anne and Mike let him be.  The still wanted him to willingly accept the idea of counseling.  Jenny had done her best to convince him, but Lucas was not swayed.  Anne had suggested that they let the subject alone for a day or two to let Lucas settle back into the routine of his classes.

At dinner that night, the table conversation was strained, with long periods of silence.  Lucas kept his eyes on his plate, and didn't eat much.  Mike could tell that he was in some pain, but mostly, he thought that the kid was embarrassed.  He didn't know how to handle having all the others know about his past.  Everyone had tried to draw him out, but he had responded with headshakes or monosyllabic answers.  Eventually, even Jenny gave up.  

All the kids kept shooting glances at the bowed blond head.  They wanted to help, but, for now, he had shut them out.

Jenny's eyes pleaded silently for Mike or Anne to do something.  Anne finally got up and began to clear the table.  Lucas excused himself and went to his room.  When he had rounded the stairwell on the second floor, Viktor whispered.  "What am I going to do about this?  What can I say to him?"

Anne shook her head in exasperation.  "I don't know what to tell you, Vic.  I think that all of us need to keep treating him normally, and eventually, he'll snap out of this."

Mike nodded.  "Good advice.  Now, is anyone up for a game of Monopoly?"

At midnight, Mike called it quits.  Viktor and Mark declared themselves the winners.  They had amassed the most houses and hotels.  Jenny had been acting as the banker, and she was amused at their bragging.  As she sorted out the denominations, she thought about Lucas.  He had gone to sleep right after dinner.  Mike had checked on him when the dishes were done, and he had reported back to them all that Lucas was sound asleep.

Viktor headed into his room, still arguing with Mark as to who really won the game.  Mark shushed him when he opened his door. 

"Don't wake him, Vic.  He needs his sleep.  See ya at breakfast."

Viktor nodded and shut the door quietly.  He didn't bother turning on the light.  There was plenty of ambient light from the full moon.  He walked over to Lucas' bed and looked down at him.  The kid was curled on his side.  Viktor was always amazed at how young he looked when he slept.  Lucas had a wary, knowing look on his face most of the waking hours, but when he slept, or relaxed in games or play, that cautious expression fell away, and he looked like the little kid he really was.  Younger even.  He was too young to be here.  Viktor pulled his blankets up and tucked them around his roommate. 

"Sleep well, buddy."  He whispered, and then got ready for bed himself.

A storm kicked up the leaves on the walkway outside.  As Viktor got into bed, he could hear the dry leaves rustle and shift clearly.  He thought that he could also smell the rain that was coming.  It looked like he'd have to wear a coat tomorrow as he went around to his classes.  He yawned and stretched his legs to the bottom of the bed, listening to Lucas' soft exhales, and then closed his eyes.  Right before he went to sleep, he thought that he heard the soft tapping of rain on the roof.

Lucas' loud screams woke not only Viktor, but also the boys down the hall.  Viktor has just untangled himself from his sheets, his heart slamming in his chest, when the door crashed open, and Mark and Tyler rushed in.  Lightning flashed at the window and reflected its blinding light in a square on the far wall.  Tympani rolls of thunder followed on the heels of the flash.  The rainstorm had arrived in full force, and rain now beat against the window and the roof above them.  The trees whipped against the second floor below them and the screech of wood rubbing against wood further set the agitated boys' nerves on edge.

Lucas was on the floor, still thrashing wildly.  Vic reached him first, and tried to avoid the flailing arms and legs.

"LUCAS!"  Mark yelled, and grabbed the boy's shoulders, shaking him lightly to wake him.  Tyler put his hand on Viktor's back and pointed to the small red stain on the white bandage on Lucas' abdomen.

"I think that he's broken some stitches.  We've got to get him to settle down or he'll hurt himself worse."

"Shall I get Mike?  Or Anne?"

"Let's wait a sec.  He's waking up."

Mark released the boy's shoulders as soon as Lucas' eyes opened.  He looked up at the ring of concerned faces.  He felt sick.  His stomach hurt and he was wet and shaking.  Seeing this, Tyler pulled the blanket off Lucas' bed to cover him.  Mark started to spread it out, then stopped.

"Wait, Tyler.  This is wet."

Victor still knelt next to Lucas, who was shaking more violently now.  The boy was crying, but trying hard to hide it.  He'd turned his face away from them.  His hands were pressing on his stomach and he was sweating heavily.  Vic was getting a little worried.

"Need a blanket here.  Now, guys."  Vic whispered tensely.  When they didn't respond and he saw that they were both staring up at the ceiling, Vic let his own eyes travel up the wall and stop at an irregular discoloration.  Water dripped from a large, dark stain above Lucas' bed.  It was raining in their room.

"Guys!"  Now Mark met his eyes.  "Get the covers off my bed.  Come on.  Move it, he's shaking."

Tyler and Mark scrambled and Lucas got covered quickly.  Viktor helped him to sit up, wincing himself at how cold Lucas' skin was.  He rubbed his back.

"Th..Th…thanks…" Lucas' words stuttered out between the chills shaking his body.

Mark and Tyler squatted down next to the roommates.  "Lucas—let's get you dried off.  I think that you got rained on, kid." 

Tyler added. "Sounds like you had a bad dream, too?"

Lucas nodded, clutching the blankets more tightly around him.

Vic hesitated, and then said.  "You want to talk about it?  We'll listen."

Lucas glanced up briefly at them and then his eyes went back to studying the floor.  Mark didn't like the way he flinched at every thunder crack.  He was warming up, but he was still shaking, and his features were drawn.  It reminded Mark of how he looked that first day in the hospital.

Lucas took a deep breath and tried to still his trembling.  Why had he dreamed about that?  He hadn't thought about the well in a long time, and he hadn't dreamed about it in over a year.  He did not want to talk about it.  These guys already knew way too much about his family problems.

He was gaining control of his emotions and was pleased to see that his shaking was less noticeable.  Lucas looked up again and was touched to see the three worried faces above him.

"I'm—O.K.,  I, I, don't remember the whole dream."  He couldn't control the shudder that shook him. "I…can't talk about it.  Thanks, though."

Unsure of how to respond, Mark and Tyler looked at each other and then moved to their comfort zone—medical issues.  "Let us check out your stitches.  Your wound is weeping some.  Probably happened when you fell out of bed."

While Mark was talking, Tyler had gently pried Lucas' fingers off the blanket and took a look at the bandage.  He carefully peeled the tape from one side and folded the stained pad back.  Mark's fingers joined in and probed the surgical incision.  It was red around the right edge and the skin had pulled away from the last two stitches.  The bleeding had stopped, but there was blood on the skin.  It was drying and the area around it wasn't hot or inflamed.

"You'll be O.K.  You just unraveled a little."  Tyler joked weakly.  He did get a small answering smile from Lucas.

They helped him up and into Viktor's bed.  While Mark and Tyler had Lucas occupied, Vic had moved the kid's bed out from under the dripping ceiling.  He placed the trashcan from the bathroom under the leak, and had brought some towels in to sop up the water in Lucas' mattress.

When he finished, he turned to the others gathered at his bed.  Mark was holding Lucas' hand as Tyler carefully tucked him in.  Lucas had closed his eyes, but Mark shook his head at Viktor's questioning gaze.  The kid was too stiff to be asleep.

Viktor sighed.  He was really tired and wanted nothing more that to crawl in his bed and sleep.  But it looked like he'd be up awhile.  He sat on the edge of the bed and took Lucas' other hand.  The boy shifted toward him.  "There's no reason for all of us to be up."  Vic whispered.  

"You sure?"  Mark queried.  He was still a little worried about the kid.  He wished that Lucas would just open up and talk to them.

Vic nodded and motioned them to shut the door when they left.

Lucas' eyes flicked open quickly and then closed again.  

"Yeah.  They're gone now.  Sure wish you'd talk to me, roomie."  He could feel Lucas tense up, squeezing his hand involuntarily.

"Viktor…I'm sorry.  I can't.  Not yet.  I'm sorry."  Lucas whispered this, his eyes still closed, and Vic saw a tear roll down one pale cheek.

Vic patted his hand awkwardly.  He didn't want to upset Lucas further, so he just nudged the younger boy over a little, and lay down beside him, pulling the bedspread over himself.  He began to talk softly, telling a long folktale that had been a regular nighttime request of his two young brothers back home in St. Petersburg.  It was quite a while before Viktor felt Lucas' hand totally relax in his.  The boy's breathing was regular and soft, and Viktor let his voice trail to silence.   He closed his own eyes and slipped into sleep, hoping his presence would keep Lucas' nightmares at bay.

Lucas was up, dressed, and gone by the time Viktor dragged himself downstairs.  He barely made the late breakfast time, and stoically tolerated Mike's reprimand for his tardiness.  God. He was so, so tired.

At dinner that night, Lucas was a bit more animated, talking with Jenny about the new SLAC government contract for UEO research.  He didn't look too worse for wear for having an interrupted night's sleep, Viktor thought sourly.  Vic hoped Lucas would sleep soundly.  He, Mark, and Tyler had decided that they'd have to tell Mike and Anne if it happened again.  Lucas needed to talk to someone about what was bothering him.

Viktor sat straight up in bed.  Lucas' screams galvanized him and he was moving even before he was totally awake.  He grabbed Lucas in time to keep him on his bed, but Lucas was thrashing violently.  His face was twisted, and Viktor realized that he was yelling words tonight.  When the meaning registered on his overtired mind, he was repulsed and horrified.  Vic closed his eyes in pain at Lucas' heart wrenching cries.  "NO!  No, dad…DON'T!  It hurts…no..no..please, daddy.  You're hurting me."

Viktor turned, still holding onto Lucas, when he heard Mark's gasp and Tyler's whispered. "Oh no.  Not again."

Mark disappeared and they heard his footfalls thumping down the stairs.  Mike and Anne needed to know what was going on.  

Tyler helped Vic hold Lucas down.  They couldn't seem to wake him up, and they couldn't let him hurt himself.  Vic raised his eyebrows in surprise at how strong the kid was, but he was panicked, and maybe that was giving him more strength.

Lucas groaned and twisted under their hands.  He was trapped in his dream.  Trapped in the well.  He had to make it to the top, but he kept falling back.  He could hear his father laughing, and he pleaded to be let out, pleaded for his father's help.

"Help…let me out!  Dad, please…"  His voice rose to a scream and then he began weeping, still trying to wrench his hands away from the two boys holding him.

They could now hear the rapid approach of the Norris's.

Mike rushed to the bed.  He stopped short, shocked at Lucas' terror.  Anne went around him and sat down beside the boy.  She took his face in her hands, and then laid her cheek next to his, whispering softly in his ear.  "Lucas.  It's Anne.  Mike's here too.  You are safe.  Wake up honey.  Come on, baby.  Wake up for me."

Mike knelt next to the bed, and listened to his wife repeat her whispered pleas.  Lucas was still now, and Viktor and Tyler released him, relieved to see his eyes flutter open.

"Anne." He whispered hoarsely.  He'd screamed so long that he'd strained his voice.  His hands came up and covered Anne's.  She was still holding his head still, a hand on each cheek.  She felt his tears.  He had been crying in his sleep.  It tore at her heart to see this boy suffering.  She helped him to sit up and then pulled him into a hug, and rocked him.  He was still crying, and he laid his head on her shoulder.  She hugged him more tightly, rubbing his back.  She could feel his breath hitch as he tried to stop his tears.  He was shaking so hard that the bed was moving, rocking against the wall. 

Mike watched Mark, Viktor, and Tyler go down the hall.  Viktor would sleep in their room for the rest of the night.  When their door closed, Mike came back and sat beside Anne and Lucas.  "Lucas.  Are you all right?"

Lucas raised his head and nodded jerkily.  His shivering was beginning to ease, and Anne let him slip from her arms.

"You need to talk to us, Lucas.  What's this about?  Mark said that this is the second night in a row, and this one was worse than last night's—talk to me, buddy."

Lucas was studying his hands intently.  Mike reached over and raised his head, cupping his chin.  "This isn't an option, Lucas.  You've got to talk about what's bothering you."  Mike was saddened to see the fear present in the boy's wide blue eyes.  Lucas shook his hand free and stood up quickly, hugging himself.   He had nearly stopped shivering.  Anne put a hand on his arm to keep him from leaving.

"Lucas.  Mike is right.  You're not O.K., you're not getting better, and you're not communicating with us.  Can't you tell us what this is about?"

"It's just a nightmare!"  Lucas shook off her hand.

"All right.  Tomorrow morning, I am scheduling a counseling session for you.."

"I don't need counseling!"  I just need to be left alone!"  Lucas' voice was rising.

"Calm down.  You need to realize that you don't have a choice—you are either in counseling when Katherine calls us back, or she will see this as an unsafe place for you to be…"  
"NO!! No.  I don't want to leave!"  Lucas had backed himself into a corner, and he was trembling again.

"Lucas…" Anne's voice was soft and she approached him slowly, as if he were a hurt creature ready to bolt if she moved too suddenly.  "Lucas, please cooperate with us.  We are trying to help you.  We…we love you, Lucas."

His hand reached for her outstretched one and then she pulled him close and held him.  "Lucas?"

"I have no choice."  He said quietly.

"No."

"Can I stay here?  Do…you still…want me?"

"Oh, yes."

"All right."  He straightened and pulled back slightly from Anne's arms.  "I'll go."

Andrew was smiling in greeting as he opened his office door.  Lucas stood quietly next to Mike, his hands jammed into his pockets.

"Hello, Michael!"  Andrew pulled on Mike's outstretched hand and clapped him on the back in a warm welcome.  He looked over at the boy.  "You must be Lucas."  Andrew's eyes twinkled as his grin increased in size.  "Come in. Come in.  Welcome."  

Lucas hesitated, wiping his shoes an unnecessarily long time.  His eyes darted nervous glances around the room.

'He looks like he's planning his escape.' Mike thought gloomily.

"Hello…"  Lucas had made it into the room now and had taken Andrew's hand.  He shook it twice, and then dropped it like a used Kleenex.

'Oh, boy.  This should be interesting.' Mike mused, and shot Lucas a warning glare.

Lucas grimaced and lowered his eyes.  His face revealed that the message had been received and understood.  He'd better behave for this session or Mike would have a very unpleasant chore for him tonight.  From Mike's glare, Lucas thought that he'd be especially creative in assigning punishment this time.

For the remainder of this first meeting, Lucas was icily polite, answering Andrew's questions as quickly and succinctly as possible.  For his part, Andrew never lost his kindly manner nor his gentle smile.  When he ushered them out at the end of the hour, he asked Mike to stay for a moment.

"Lucas, wait for me in the car, please."  Lucas nodded as he caught the keys, his jaw so tight that Mike could see the individual muscles working under the skin.  Mike watched him exit, and then turned and offered Andrew an apologetic shrug.  "Sorry, Andrew.  I thought that he'd be more cooperative."

"Michael—that's not why I asked you to stay.  Well, I guess that is part of the reason.  I wanted to ask you what you thought about me sharing my past with Lucas.  I believe I can reach him if I tell him my story.   He wants to talk, Michael, but he is so afraid.  I can see it in his eyes."

Mike nodded thoughtfully.  He'd seen Lucas' fear as well.

"I recognize that particular look, Michael.  I've seen it before, many times."

Mike was curious.  "Where, Andrew?  Where have you seen it before?"

"In me own mirror, Michael my lad."

To be continued…

Chapter 14   Andrew's Story


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